


Meu Querido Mês de Agosto

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Carnival AU, Dick Pics, Eventual Smut, F/M, Frotting, Heartbreak, Human Allura, Italian-American Holts, Keith is American, Keith's dad is called James, Lance is Cuban, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Outdoor Sex, Past Relationship(s), Past Shadam - Freeform, Phone Sex, SHEITH - Freeform, Sexting, Shadam, Sheith Big Bang 2018, Shiro is Japanese, alternative universe, assumed Shallura, blowjob, broklance, lowkey rigged gaming, mention of illicit activities, mutual pining for way too long, the McClains own a burger stand, there are dick pics, there may or may not be dick pics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: My piece for Sheith Big Bang 2018! My artist was the lovely BlueyBlues and you can find her gorgeous artwork in chapters three and five!«For the first time in years, Keith had to close his eyes to overcome the joy of the ride.»





	1. i.

> _ Meu querido mês de Agosto _
> 
> _ Por ti levo o ano inteiro a sonhar _

 

Keith Kogane had grown bored of rollercoasters and carnival rides very early in his life. Other kids might look at him in wonder when he says his Dad operates one of the coolest attractions in a bunch of county Summer fairs, but there was only so much amusement one could take out of the same old ups and downs and turnabouts. They became predictable after a few spins, the railway path always traced the same degree of adrenaline that did nothing for him anymore.

 

The original idea of accompanying his Dad through the several county fairs was to have him decompress from the monotonous city life; provide a different outlook and have him taking a break from the stressful school-home-school routine. It might have worked for the first few  years, but it ended up becoming another type of merry-go-round.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the traveling part; at least he got to hang out with his dad in a more relaxed manner and he was allowed to have his bare feet up on the front panel of the truck as they drove around the US. They stayed at cheap motels, watched crappy national TV reality shows, ate pizza. Quality bonding time for a family otherwise broken.

 

He didn’t hate the whole amusement ride thing either. In fact, Keith had been the author of the name of their ride, back when he was a just an eight-year-old and his Father had been hired to restore an old, unusable ride. They had both witnessed the rebirth of the  _ Red Lion _ as it grew from rusty pipes, collapsed railways and broken mechanisms to shiny paint jobs and fake leather seats. 

 

The Red Lion was a type of fairground ride with space ship styled two-person pods, arranged on a number of radial arms around a central axis, atop of which stood a wood-fiber and thermoplastic sculpture of a roaring lion painted abnormally red with galaxies and cosmos all over its body, hand-painted stars lost among the vast mane. It took some breaths away and wasn’t designed for those with a weak stomach. 

 

Every now and then, James would take the time to teach Keith how to meddle with the few buttons of the control panel of the ride and let him operate a spin under his careful supervision. From the central control station, the operator activates the axis rotation, the arms lifting into the air in random intervals, providing an erratic jumping motion. It was entertaining for Keith to push the limits of speed, or freezing and holding the motion of the pods as high as they could go and then dropping them without warning, or - younger Keith’s personal favorite - to have the riders assuming the voyage was over by easing the cars into a stop, but then suddenly resuming the jumping motion backwards.

 

Carnival lights and the smell of overly fried treats were nauseating after a day, let alone three whole months. The flashing rainbows of the carousels and rides caused temporary blind spots across his sight, the music was deafening, smothering, in sync with the frantic chants from fair dealers attracting potential buyers to their uncertified goods with apparent high quality but questionable origin and price.

 

Luckily enough, Summer was nearing its end. 

 

On the other hand, so was he. 

 

Keith sighed and rubbed his forehead, the nasty Drake song that echoed across the whole county fair through the speakers for the nth time in the past hours digging into his brain cells and forcing them to commit mass suicide. He was exhausted, and there were still a couple days left until the current festival was over. After that, another bunch of states, and only by the end of August they’d wrap everything up and put it away for the year to go back to what they considered their “normal” life, which for him meant returning to a crappy apartment in New York, above an old antique shop run by his uncle.

 

Could be worse; but Keith knew no better.

 

“Hey, pup.”, a grave voice made him lift his unamused gaze to meet one of identical color. His Father sheepishly scratched the stubble that covered his sharp jaw, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as per usual. The man seemed to have made a point to always smile at Keith, even if life was shit and the bills piled up like crazy on the desk and the food he could afford was hardly ever beyond canned beans and bread. At least county fair season was a bit lighter on them and James received a regular income during the months of Summer.

 

“Don’t call me that.”, Keith spat with no real heat, promptly dodging the large hand that would’ve grabbed him by the back of the neck with the intent of a fatherly caress. It was seen as a challenge by the older male, who instead curled his whole arm around the boy and pulled him to a hug and a loud kiss on the forehead. “Ugh! Let go!”

 

“Oh right, puberty. Yer allergic to yer Dad’s affection now.” James wiped a dramatic fake tear from the corner of his eye before letting go of his son with a guttural chuckle. Keith countered with the fact that he was  _ fifteen _ , not some hormonal kid anymore, but his voice was silenced by a few crumpled dollar bills in his hand. “You’ve been brooding there all afternoon, go get yerself something to eat. We’re expecting a lot of visitors today for the fireworks, you might not be able to pause for a bite. Get me the usual too, when you come back.”

 

With a huffle, Keith nodded, shoving the money into the front pouch of his dark hoodie and making his way to where the fast-food booths clustered, a few meters down the field assigned for this year’s county fair.

 

Between cotton candy and caramelized apples stands, kebab stalls and ice cream vans, he ended up stopping where he always did out of habit rather than personal preference over the other offers.

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my buddy Keith.” Bent over the counter of the vending booth, a caramel skinned boy grinned at Kogane with a superiority he knew better than to backlash with aggressivity; a slow gesture and an eyebrow tilt would do as a salute.

 

“Lance.”

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your illustrious presence?” Theatrical and overly dramatic as always, the teen slipped on his apron; he must have just arrived to his family’s stand for another evening of deep fried carbs, splashed oil and sweat.

 

“Take a wild guess. What else would I want from you?”

 

“Skin care advice?”

 

The sharp glare Keith snapped at the Cuban boy spoke for itself.

 

“Onion rings, coming right up.” Fingergunning his way to the other side of the cabin, Lance prepared the order, tossing some fries and said pre-cooked rings into separate frying baskets. The older Kogane’s order went without saying after years and years, thus Lance proceeded to grill a burger. “You do know onion rings are an appetizer, not an actual meal. Will you ever eat properly?” There was a mockery tone in those words, but they were backed with a percentage of concern. Keith had known Lance for a couple years now, which didn’t seem like  _ that _ much because they only really saw each other during Summer. The McClain family was always a great presence in these events, flipping their famous burgers for generations now. It was James’ favorite joint, during Summer.

 

“I don’t digest meat too well.” Keith explained dismissively, leaning his back against the concession trailer so that his eyes could survey the surroundings while waiting for his and James’ dinner.

 

The smartest bunch of visitors would come around this time so they could enjoy the partial sense of peace to either eat or enjoy the rides before the whole fair became too congested to even take a step without bumping against some brute. Hot dogs were shoved into starving mouths, while others stuck to a soup, nachos, or things Keith never knew could be impaled with a stick and deep fried. They followed incredibly caloric treats with overly sweetened desserts, Italian ice creams,  _ churros _ , caramel apples, snow cones, multicolored popcorn, soft pretzels…

 

The kids’ carousels across the field had begun running, the fake motorbikes and creepy, almost demonic takes on sculpted rides of Disney characters being a selected favorite of the youngsters, and Keith noticed two brothers fighting over the claim of a vintage red eyed Donald Duck shaped car, away from their parents’ periphery.

 

The sizzling noise from the deep fryer ceased, his food being packed into styrofoam containers, but Keith didn’t turn to Lance, focusing instead on the nearby team of ceramic horses bouncing up and down to a macabre song worthy of an old music box. 

 

It was almost sad that the carousel horses, sculpted to perfectly imitate the animal’s complex anatomy, trotted for a living but never really left their place. Not until they were too cracked, too stained, too spent and old, only to be dismantled and forcefully retired into a creepy warehouse. The white majestic one with a braided golden forelock stared despairingly at nothing in particular through the black holes it had for eyes, its paint job dull after so long, aware of its own curse too well; it had the mission to make a little girl feel like a princess, but the girl would never answer the horse’s plea for freedom. 

 

“The moon has descended from the night sky in the form of a walking goddess.”

 

During his musings, Keith almost missed those words from Lance’s mouth, spoken with the heavy intensity of a poem, and looked over to make sure the other had even spoken.

 

Lance’s jaw hung from his skull, blue eyes wide open as they contoured the audacious curves of a woman; she had a gorgeous shade of brown skin heavily contrasting with a cascade of silver hair falling down her back, eyes shiny like rhinestones. Her pink top was short enough to challenge the concept of decency and jeans so impossibly tight on her hips and thighs, a denim jacket loosely wrapped around her waist. The confidence of her Naomi Campbell walk made those heels look comfortable, heads turning and necks breaking as she passed, never losing balance as she picked from a gigantic bicolored cotton candy. With a gluttony almost childish, she licked the remnants of the sugary cloud off her fingers, carefree and naïve.

 

She was a sight, indeed, but Keith’s recently discovered tendencies made him immune to a woman’s spell. “I’ll take my food now, Lance. ...Lance?”

 

In the Cuban boy’s head it all happened in slow motion, with the blurry quality of a dream from which not even the wagging of Keith’s bill in front of him was enough to call him back to reality. To hell with it. Keith grabbed the packages from the counter and shoved the money back into the kangaroo pouch on his sweater; he’d pay Lance later, but only if the loverboy remembered to ask.

 

Loverboy who groaned all of a sudden, letting his head drop on his palm in disappointment. Turns out the princess of the moon had a man with her.

 

Keith threw a sly look at the man, meeting only his muscled back and broad shoulders, but he shrugged his interest off and kept walking without much of a second thought. It was an imminent let-down for Lance, a girl like that would never be single, much less for a food truck boy. No way he could compete with the perfect picture of a cross-fit Instagram couple.

 

Upon returning (the onion rings had disappeared during his trek back, one at a time), he stepped into the control cabin to deliver James his dinner, playfully stealing a french fry before heading down to work.

 

His job went smoothly for the night; it merely consisted in retrieving tickets and making sure the passengers of the spaceship themed ride were properly buckled up and aware of general amusement riding rules (keep hands, arms, legs and feet inside the ride at all times, secure all loose articles, including wallets, change, sunglasses, cell phones, and hats, remain seated in the ride until it comes to a complete stop and are instructed to exit and whatever). Nothing too hard; simply tedious. 

 

This girl, however… didn’t seem to get it. She stomped her foot like some brat, arms crossed over her chest and lips pursed in an insistent pout. Where were her parents?! She couldn’t be older than ten, and it was clear that she didn’t hear a “no” very often.

 

“I said, you’re not tall enough. Beat it.” Keith repeated with imperious authority, as he proceeded to double check the safety belts around the waists and chests of two high-schoolers who seemed more concerned about posing for their selfie than to make sure they were prepared for the ride. Maybe he ought loosening their belts up a little bit and snap a picture of their faces when they realized just how fast the pods could go. Their Facebook followers would love that.

 

“You’re barely taller than me.” The girl behind him countered and to that, Keith rose an eyebrow, straightening his back to regain the inches of height advantage he had over the girl. Was she challenging him? She sure was, with a pair of calculating, otherwise sweet, hazel eyes that seemed to know more than a little girl should. He was about to forcefully guide her away from the platform, when a large hand was set on the child’s shoulder.

 

“Told you, Katie. Maybe next year.”

 

The compassionate voice belonged to a tall man, and something clicked on Keith’s neck as he had to drag his gaze up to see the stranger’s face; and  _ what _ a face. Michelangelo himself must’ve risen from his eternal resting place in  _ Basilica di Santa Croce _ for one last breathtaking masterpiece, a walking, living being with the highest cheekbones and gorgeously sculpted jaw. His eyes were made of platinum coated kindness, whatever that meant; it just felt like they could cut through someone and knock the breath out of them but also melt with their divine benevolence. After what must have been the most awkward staring competition in the world, the stranger sucked his lower lip into his mouth and formed a gentle smile towards Keith, cute dimples marking the corners of his lips.

 

At the sight, his heart might have stopped for quite a few seconds; or perhaps it was beating way too fast against his ribcage, threatening to rip through flesh and bone alike to be presented to the older male before him. Love at first sight? More like heart attack at first sight. “We’re sorry to have bothered you.” He said, the soft timbre of his voice tickling Keith in weird places. “Have a good one!”

 

_ No, don’t leave yet. _

 

That request would have been heard if Keith had bothered to open his mouth before the stranger turned his back, guiding the grumpy little girl away from the amusement ride his dad operated. Instead of regretting his silence, he forced himself to believe that if he had made him turn, then he wouldn’t have been blessed with the sight of an amazing pair of gym enhanced gluteal muscles covered by white jeans. 

 

“Keith, you done ogling the goods?” James pulled Keith out of his metaphorical coma by calling him out through the speakers. Some fair attendants turned their curious heads towards the blushing boy, causing him to hide further into his hoodie in shame. He was giggling, oh  _ God _ , why was he giggling at him?! Dad of the year right there, with an innate skill to publicly embarrass his son. “Finish that row and we’re ready to go.”

 

Keith did as he was told with little effort and mechanized movements. He stepped back as soon as the seats were taken and his Dad messed with the controls with trained expertise to lift the forty attendants a couple meters in the air and initiate the circular motions of the ride, gradually increasing in speed. Maybe he shouldn’t search for the guy again - maybe he had long since disappeared in the crowd -, but his quivering heart was buzzing like the multicolored neon signs above him, craving for the satisfaction only a look could grant a fifteen-year-old boy.

 

The girl, “Katie”, had been guided towards a boy (who was an exact copy of her, only a little taller and with glasses) and two adults who hung around each other dearly like lovestruck teenagers, a lovely couple who were undoubtedly the youngsters’ parents. The walking Michelangelo magnum opus™ seemed close to the group, though he clearly was not part of the family. A friend? Colleague? Maybe they were neighbours, or acquainted for a long time.

 

He really should’ve refrained from peeking over his shoulder to glance at the man again.

 

Keith’s heart sunk when they were joined by a woman - the cotton candy woman Lance was swooning over earlier. She playfully stole the cute guy’s baseball cap and set it on top of her own head with a pose, laughing obnoxiously loud as she instigated a chase, only to be caught immediately and held by the waist, the man tickling her into submission as she thrashed around in his arms. He retrieved the cap, putting it on Pokémon trainer style, with the floof of overgrown black hair peeking through the closure, their never-ending hug worthy of being labeled with the hashtag “relationship goals” on social media.

 

A girlfriend.  _ Of course he would have a girlfriend. _

 

Keith wondered if he could still taste the sugar from the cotton candy she was having before. For some reason, he thought that’d be disgusting, but the taste of overly fried onion rings would definitely be worse, wouldn’t it? Self-consciously, Keith wiped his mouth at the back of his hand, turning his back at the displays of affection between strangers that irked him so badly for no other justification than unreasonable covetousness.

 

Relating to Lance on a deep, personal level felt as ridiculous as it was; turns out the Cuban boy wasn’t the only one anguishing with a one-sided fleeting Summer crush that ended as suddenly as it begun. 


	2. ii.

> _ Trago sorrisos no rosto _ _   
>  _ _ Meu querido mês de Agosto  
>  _ __ Porque sei que vou voltar
> 
>   
>    
> 

Summer loves were fleeting, forgotten after a while, much like that caramel summer tan and the sand stuck between toes. It disappeared into the fragility of a memoir, darkened by the over-exposition to time. Such was life.

 

But as conveniently as Keith’s life would have it, he just  _ couldn’t _ forget.

 

It might’ve been the angle of his jaw, the color of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the herculean bod, but he can barely remember anymore, his mind playing its tricks by editing fragments of memory into an ideal dream. A nameless man, probably older than Keith, someone he had only seen once, was the recurring object of his fantasies for twelve bloody months.

 

It began, like so many other mistakes, with a sleepless night, his hand around his cock and the need for stress-relief; he was annoyed and much as any bored, healthy teenager would, he rubbed one off. But his mind gravitated to the stranger for no reason at all, an obscene image of a tongue slipping from between plump lips and tracing a path of saliva down to--

 

He ceased his movements immediately, eyes snapping open - because  _ what the fuck _ , Kogane - but after considering that it was doing it,  _ oh so perfect _ , for him, he palmed at himself again, pumping his volume to the wild thoughts of the man he could never have.

 

That made Keith feel like such a stalking, nasty creeper, but thinking about him once? Completely normal, totally happened to everyone at some point, the short-term embarrassment would fade with time until he never thought of it again. Except, from that fated night on, Keith was only able to attain the epitome of his arousal through the imaginary touch of that man, until he became unable to reach an orgasm without it.

 

The dude was  _ hot _ , so what? Who could blame Keith for dwelling on that fact for longer than general unspoken etiquette dictated?

 

Having to return to Arizona exactly one year after the first and last time he saw him, didn’t help at all. What were the odds that they’d meet again anyway? There was only as much excitement in playing the same rigged games, eating the same sweet treats, riding the same attractions and witnessing the same patterns of fireworks as every year before. Why would the stranger revisit the fairgrounds?

 

Still, a boy could dream, no?

 

~*~

 

Even if his dreams weren’t usually heard by mythical entities, this time, God (or some version of the concept) decided to mock him and shove him right into the lion’s den. Rather, the lion came to him.

 

Keith spotted him first as he worked his way around a caramelized apple. It shouldn’t be as erotic as it was through Keith’s not-so-immaculate vision, but the way that thick tongue curled around the covered surface of the apple to gather as much caramel as he could in his mouth did something to the youngster’s lower belly, a ticklish sensation he associated with private jerk-off sessions. His mental library was replenished with new material to think back on. In the safe distance established by the crowd between the Red Lion and the sweets booth, Keith was lucky to be able to hide when their eyes were close to meeting.

 

But as greedy as he was, as desperate as he was with this infantile demand to be as close as he could to the stranger who shaped his fantasies, he went after him.

 

_ Stupid, stupid Keith, you’re going to regret this. _

 

Pulling his hood over his head, Keith walked behind them, seeing as they were joined by the family from last year. His shirt was tight - thank the fucking God - and so were his denim shorts, the cut just above his knee, which allowed Keith to admire the  _ bloody crazy  _ definition of his calves. Not to pull his fake fashion police badge or anything, but with that killer look, the man wore a cap, the visor protecting him from the blinking lights that would trigger epilepsia on someone too sensitive; he ought to take that off.

 

A bit too often, his crush - and current stalking mark,  _ oh god, would he go to jail for this obsessive behavior? _ \- would pull out his phone and frown at the screen, only to put it back into his pocket to smile at the overly excited Katie, pointing at every attraction with blinking lights.

 

Spider web shaped irons integrated with flashy LEDs vibrated invitingly against a sky that bled into purples and dark blues, baskets of people traveling in a circular motion, going high enough to make her head tilt and her neck crack at the angle; that was enough to hold her adventurous attention, her mouth forming a cute little “o”. 

 

“The Giant Wheel!” Katie, the bothersome girl Keith recognized from the previous year, pointed towards what the owners of the attraction considered, in a huge garish banner, the Biggest, Tallest and most Entertaining Ferris Wheel in the country.

 

A load of bullshit, according to James, who swore with his life that there was this guy in Vegas a couple years ago, who owned the attraction that was, effectively, the biggest, tallest and most entertaining in America despite being unusable.  _ It’s shit, I tell ya, pup. _ There was a fine line between what Keith’s father promised to be true and what he had actually seen or heard, but Keith was in no position to question that when the ferris wheel operators were shitty people themselves.

 

Even under the fake advertisement, Katie excitedly pulled him to join the long queue, the whole family following shortly after. 

 

“Oh yeah! I can ride this year, I’m tall enough!” She pointed out to the man who accompanied her; the reason for Keith’s imminent heart failure and dropped jaw, six foot two of heavenly biceps and guilty temptation in denim and black tee in all his college jock goodness that only seemed to have gotten better since last time, unlike what the young American boy thought possible.  _ Why does he have to be straight… _ as if that were the only factor that stopped them from being a thing. “Let’s go, Shiro!”

 

_ Shiro. _

 

The man had a name.

 

Why, of course he did, but Keith had discovered it clandestinely - it was a gift, a secret locked with every little locket his heart could afford - which further confirmed his East Asian heritage, if the shape of his angular eyes and high cheekbones didn’t give it away already. While he might’ve jumped a little on his toes with this little bit of knowledge, there wasn’t much to do with it. He didn't have a reason to use it; heck, he could barely command his body to breathe in the presence of this divine creature, let alone gather the superhuman effort to utter a name.

 

He'd whisper it countless times in the future privacy of his sheets, he disgracefully realized, shame rising up from his belly to heat up his features.

 

Shoved by someone behind him, Keith joined the queue without realizing, the sorting of the attendants based on their current position in line. Four/five per cabin Should his calculations be correct, he ought to be placed with the girl and the boy behind him, while Shiro -  _ oh wow that’s his name and he was using it in his head, amazing  _ \- would ride with the whole family. He could stand being a third wheel for a lewd making-out teenage couple if that meant he could watch Shiro from a distance.

 

He was pretty sure he could go to jail for this, but to be fair, Shiro’s looks had to be illegal too.

 

Keith prepared the four dollars due for the ride - fucking expensive for what it was but Keith considered it an offering to God as well for allowing him the time to silently admire Shiro -, dropping them in the hand of the operator, receiving a pink ticket in return. The family was entering their assigned capsule, one at a time; the little girl, her brother, the two adults and--...

 

Where was Shiro?!

 

“Hello?” A sharp impatient tone pierced through Keith’s ear, his eyes following the man who had taken a step aside to pick up a call and allow others into the ride. Whoever had called him should hang up immediately, lest he wouldn’t make it into the same compatiment as his group. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your messages.”

 

…  _ Yes, he had. _ Keith was a witness to that. He gulped, biting his lip. Could he be talking to his girlfriend, that long-haired girl from the year before, maybe? If that were the case, why would Shiro choose to ignore her texts? The lie felt bitter in Keith’s tongue and he hadn’t even been the one saying it. 

 

“I’ll be home by then, don’t worry, Sam will drop me off. Yes, yes. I  _ know _ . I’m always careful. I’m not a damn twig about to break at the slightest pressure, I know what--”

 

Trouble in paradise for the archetype prom King and Queen? The relief in this possibility made Keith feel terrible and mentally reevaluate the type of person he wanted to be. The pod rolled forward to allow access to the following seats, and he was gestured towards it. Heck, if Shiro hadn’t entered the ride, Keith’s whole purpose for being there was lost, but before he could get out of the way, he was already being told to hurry inside. His butt landed in an uncomfortable seat, hard and flat.

 

The couple that should’ve followed Keith in was debating whether the ride was too high for the girl to handle, her second thoughts showing in the form of annoying whining and helpless clinging to the boyfriend, who simply decided to ask for his money back and walk away with his love. Keith barely noticed this, attention evenly split between Shiro’s phone call and Katie’s discreet little ramble about how “Adam doesn’t leave Shiro alone, it’s incredible that he still puts up with him”. The older ones sighed and shook their heads in agreement. 

 

Shiro sighed. “See you later, Adam. ...I-... Me too. Bye.”

 

_ Adam…?  _ The phone call ended in a distasteful tone, the male name hanging in Keith’s head. So definitely not the cotton candy girl, but what was the meaning of this?

 

_ Oh my God, was he gay? _

 

“Sorry, man.” Shiro patted the operator’s arm with a friendly smile, receiving one in return. Oh so that was all you had to do to have a little sympathy from the mustached man. Got it. He might’ve imagined the glare he received, but what the hell. He had decided from what his dad told him that he wouldn’t like these guys.

 

The light radiating from the fair was momentarily blocked, as Shiro stepped on the movable aluminum stairs to enter the passengers’ car, lowering his head as was inevitable for someone of his height.

 

_ Wait. _

 

_ Oh no. The same cabin as Keith?! _

 

Kogane, young and dumb and kind of in love, might have forgotten how to breathe, scooting up to the farthest corner possible, all curled up over himself. Shiro sat in front of him, properly balancing the car with their combined weight, waving at Katie in the anterior cabin.

 

_ Oh, let me out, please!!-- _

 

The tiny silver gate was closed and locked tightly to avoid incidents. Not like that would help the imminent combustion and the complete meltdown in Keith’s brain, he might as well jump down the wheel once he hit the highest possible point. 

 

The horns startled him, a gasp crawling up from his throat and being caught before he expelled it through his lips. Part of him wondered if the creepy ferris wheel operator did it on purpose to declare war upon him, but he missed the chance to glare at him because Shiro looked at him, straight into him, and he was so close--

 

Actually he hadn’t moved, but Keith was intoxicated by his mere presence.

 

When the ride began, Keith’s gravity center stayed behind, his stomach twisting and turning. The proximity was nauseating, just the fact that he was so close to a man he had touched himself to… God had a wicked sense of humor and Keith would find a way to ask a refund for those four dollars. 

 

The silence became comfortable as they gained distance from the ground level, a sense of freedom coming with the wind that slapped their faces, wrapped around them, sailed through their hair. As high as they went, it gave them a bird’s view over the fair, and Keith drew a mental map, pinpointing his regular locations - The Red Lion, the McClain food booth, the auction stage, the place he often got ice cream from, the street vendors… With the lights and the enhanced distance, the damn place almost seemed to be beautiful and deprived of cheating, smuggling, violent encounters of competitive operators or dealers, and falsified outcomes to the games available for the general public.

 

Over halfway to the peak of the ride, Keith noticed Shiro fidgeting with a question between his lips.

 

“Hey, you’re… that boy from last year. From the spaceship attraction, right?”

 

Oh no he was being talked to.  _ Oh no. Fucking GOD. _

 

Hesitant eyes darted upwards to meet titanium colored ones; a mistake, for he couldn’t muster the guts to look away and keep his decency in check. His mouth, however, almost felt dormant, unable to obey the orders his brain sent its way. What should he say anyway?  _ Oh yes, it is me, the guy who fell in love with the curve of your smile and the glistening of your eyes and the hazy delusion clouded by my libido of you touching me and doing bad things to me. We’ve met. Once. Briefly. _

 

“Yeah… I work there.”

 

Luckily - or maybe not, he was too slow to decide - Shiro broke the contact as he was called by his group, who were a bit more than two meters or so away, taking pictures of their overly excited daughter and suddenly super terrified son.

 

“I guess my buddy Matt just realized how high this thing really goes.”

 

Shiro didn’t look at him when he spoke, head tilted up as he mockingly waved at his friends from the safety provided by solid trust and unphasement for heights. He may not be looking, but Keith was, a lovestruck idiot staring at a brick wall with the hope of being loved back.

 

With his luck he’d receive a brick to the face instead.

 

Keith’s heart climbed all the way up his throat to rest at the tip of his tongue as the unhealthy and definitely unsafe sound of rusty gears struggling to keep up to their function was heard, the circular motion that should be smooth, stuttering to a harsh stop.

 

“Oh...” Shiro muttered, and  _ FUCK _ , Keith finished in thought.

 

So much for the “Biggest, Tallest and most Entertaining ferris wheel in America”. More like the most faulty, pretentious, inappropriate waste of iron in the fucking country.

 

James Daniel Kogane was always right, one way or the other.

 

Keith refused to move, eyes scrunching closed; he wasn’t scared of heights, he usually welcomed that adrenaline, but he wasn’t alone up here, and Shiro had more courage than all the riders combined, as he peeked over the edge of the car, careful not to unbalance it. 

 

“It seems that they’ve had a technical issue.” He transmits to Keith, but loud enough so that his friends can hear him too. “A little malfunction in the mainframe. They’re looking it over right now.”

 

Just his luck. Stuck. On top of a ferris wheel. With the man he crushed on but couldn’t have for more than several reasons. Just how cliché could his life get? In the stillness of the ride, cradled only by the wind, Shiro’s leg bumped against Keith’s and he said "thank you" instead of "I'm sorry", and even Keith took too long to process the reason why Shiro's face suddenly became red and twisted into an embarrassed grimace.

 

That was actually pretty cute.

 

Keith wondered if there was a particular reason for Shiro to have remained with his leg leaning on his but you wouldn’t find this disaster gay boy complaining; he’d blame it on the suddenly too cramped space of the cabin.

 

“Looks like we’ll be up here for a little while…” Shiro exhaled, chest expanding, and  _ woah, that shirt was incredibly tight in his pectorals _ , this was attempted murder, it had to be. “You, uh… You’re not from around.” Somehow, Keith felt like those weren’t the words Shiro meant to say, but he kept on rambling, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as if that'd put some sense into him. “I mean, not that you don't look like you could be from around, just... I only ever see you during the festivities.”

 

They shared a quick look from which the older man broke away first with the unspoken excuse to look up at Matt and Katie - the boy was clinging onto the seat for dear life, gravity toying with his fight or flight reaction. Matt clearly wanted to flee, but being strapped to a leather clad seat on a rotary entertainment installation that aimed for the skies made it impossible so he just  _ screamed _ , and God, was it pitiful. If the pretend pod had an escape button he’d be smashing it.

 

With that, Keith decided to recoil into his hood, tugging at the strings and chewing on one of them. He had barely computed that he found the same man as the year before mostly because his brain was hyperventilating, chanting the obvious fact that Shiro was initiating small talk with him. There was little else to do five hundred feet high, and maybe Shiro was just trying to remain calm facing the situation.

 

There was more than the usual social pressure to get this right, to avoid saying the wrong thing and making a fool of himself. Under the multicolored lights, it was like the blush that spread across Shiro's cheeks was an illusion.

 

All of this was, a refined dream from which Keith would wake up with the determination to dive back into a life-long coma.

 

_ That's called dying, Keith, and dead people can't talk to their crushes. _

 

“I live in New York.” Keith offered after a weird pause, hoping that it would suffice to prolong the conversation.

 

“I see.”

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Those words were the clean, sharp cut of a katana, dismissive and uninterested, heart-wrenching. The  _ seppuku _ of a dialogue and the brain suicide of a sixteen-year-old who had ruined any chance of establishing some sort of banter between them. He needed something, anything, just about ANYTHING so that Keith could be blessed with the repercussions of the sound of Shiro's voice, over and over, playing on repeat in his head, the broken record that could sink into his shattered soul and bring out a reason to live from beneath the piles of debris. He felt like they were limited by the time of the ride, five minutes were his whole world,  _ if that’s all he would have, then by God, he would take it. _

 

"... My Dad travels all year round, but... I stay there and only tag along for Summer break." Good. Nice. He added with only a few seconds of interval; not too awkward, not too desperate, not too obvious that he was so into this guy and wanted him to never ever shut that beautiful mouth up unless he was using it on him.  _ Pat yourself in the back, Kogane, you transcended the limit of your social interactions for the night. _

 

"That's pretty rad! I remember in middle school we had this friend in our class that'd only really join us when the Circus was in town. We were all so jealous of him, we thought he was just chilling at home while we were having tests, but in fact he was traveling across the country with his family’s troupe, hoping from school to school."

 

Keith chuckled at that; he had no friends in school that'd care enough to hang outside of the context of a class project or beyond the partition of a table at the cafeteria for not having any other seat available. That said, not even once had his dad’s summer job gotten in the way of him being uselessly evaluated in a written test. 

 

Shiro’s words came so easily, a little portion of what was a life so  _ different _ from Keith’s own given with such gracious intent. Experience, memories. It didn’t have to feel so special, maybe it wasn’t supposed to, but the casual tone of the chat was rather cozy. Of course Keith would dwell on something so silly, something so easily looked over by anyone else. But this was Shiro, and Shiro was a light that blinded the youngster into leaning closer. 

 

“What are you in college for?” Overlapping Matt’s agonized screams and Katie’s sadistic laughter from the neighboring cabin, Shiro asked with the brightest of purity and a dashing smile to match, interest sparkling in his eyes. Keith had to blink several times to relocalize himself, looking up at the taller man.

 

“I’m… not in college? Not yet, at least, I’m sixteen.”

 

“Sixteen?! Wow!” Shiro exhaled in surprise, eyebrows shooting up. Was it that surprising? Running his fingers through his hair, Shiro made a face with a confused frown, but it quickly faded into a artificial grin. “You’re... pretty young, you don’t look sixteen.”

 

“Please.” Keith huffed, slowly shaking his head. “I’m not  _ that _ young.” What a bratty thing to say, but Keith couldn’t help it.

 

There was a hint of sadness - disappointment even - to the hum that followed in response. Suddenly there was a barrier between them and Keith didn’t know how to deal with such intangibility. The silence between them was filled with background noise faint Carnival songs, distant yelling and the muteness of the wind; Shiro was next to him but so far away, with these distractions fitting in between. Was he being judged by the simple age difference? Most of the people Keith hung out with were his dad’s friends - and well, Lance, but Lance doesn’t count - which affected him in terms of early maturity, or so he’d think, convincing himself that that was the reason why he hardly fit in with groups within his age range. He may be a teenager, but he knows what he wants and where he wants to go and most importantly, he knows how far he must push himself if he wants to meet his goals. Did Shiro think he was a  _ child _ ? Like fuck he was, but like fuck Keith would care. He had nothing to prove to a stranger, even if said stranger was no less than the most gorgeous man ever.

 

Hopefully his dick would be put-off from now on due to being treated in such a condescending manner. Hopefully Shiro would turn out to be a jerk and not the perfect archetype of a Disney prince like his dreams had made him out to be.

 

_ It wouldn’t. _

 

“A lot younger than me, I mean. I’m twenty-three. But that’s fine.”

 

Fine? Was it? Keith hesitated to look over at the other, but when he did their eyes met and he knew he couldn’t look away, Shiro’s magnetism holding him in wonder like this man had been the author of the star splattered painting of the night sky above them.

 

“... You don’t look twenty-three either.” Keith teased with nothing to lose, allowing his teeth to peek through a little smirk. “Twenty-three-year-old people should know snapback caps are for kids, and even they barely wear them. Much less at nighttime.”

 

“I honestly feel so called out right now, I’m out of here.” Shiro snorted - the most beautiful laugh, dear Jesus, Keith saved that sound in a little box inside his heart -, but didn’t actually move except to grab onto the visor of his cap protectively, lest he’d wag the cabin too much. “Caps are cool.”

 

“Back in the nineties, and even then, rather questionable.”

 

With a second between their breaths, the horn sounded again, and with that, the wheel resumed its rotation, the cabins shaking a bit with the forced motion but then moving smoothly. Matt seemed to have calmed down, at least until he peeked over to see the tremendous descend. Was he dumb, Keith wondered? He was yelling as if his body could ever achieve the state of free fall at ten miles per hour.

 

Their slow lowering to safety was interrupted by a buzzing sound. Shiro palmed at his thigh to retrieve his vibrating phone, a smiling picture of a man Keith had just discovered he had grown to hate out of the desire of being able to switch their positions popping up on the screen.

 

_ Adam _ , it read, followed by  _ less than three _ .

 

So yes, the man of Keith’s dreams wasn’t straight as he had assumed the year before, but for some reason it felt even more extirpative for the youngster’s little heart that Shiro was gay and taken by someone unworthy of him.

 

Immediately, Keith sank down on his seat, attentive eyes examining Shiro’s expression shift from a short smile to a thin line. The thorn of jealousy poked at Keith’s heart, barbed wire with murderous intent. When he spoke, the words left his lips before he had the etiquette to stop them. “Your boyfriend couldn’t make it this year?”

 

Shiro looked surprised at the question (wondering how Keith would know, perhaps) but shrugged, his thumb sliding across the smartphone to reject the call before sliding it back into the depths of his slim-fit denim shorts. 

 

“No, I don’t… Well... he is busy. Or something.” The tone of dismissal was noted, a frown momentarily darkening his handsome features. Shiro shrugged coldly. “... Men, right?”

 

Keith didn’t know what to reply to that; no,  _ he didn’t know _ . He wished he knew, though. It seemed more complicated than it had to be, so he didn’t ask any further. He put up a mental post-it note to reminisce back on this once he had the time to conjure the endless meanings of this dismissal. Shiro seemed to appreciate the fact that he didn’t nose in on the subject any longer, so Keith didn’t insist.

 

Whatever  _ Adam _ had done, Shiro was clearly hurt, and Keith loathed him for it.

 

“It’s fascinating, up here.” Shiro shared with a tone that felt intimate, a whisper that could’ve been a secret. Keith kept the little galaxies in Shiro’s eyes, reflected by the lights below them, and that was the frame he burnt into the back of his mind during the rest of the ride, forcing himself to memorize the face of the man who had been as kind as Keith never dared to expect.

 

_ Cute _ , and not an asshole.

 

God damn it, that made it even harder not to be in love with him.

 

~*~

 

Shiro had followed him from the ferris wheel, friendly banter kept as easy as breathing, but once they arrived, Keith’s eyes were focused on the insane velocities the spaceship shaped pods of the Red Lion attained, as if he wanted to be purposely queasy. The amusement ride had reached its highest and fastest point, simulating the dodge and block of an asteroid field. Keith understood that as a metaphor for his current situation: he had been hit with an asteroid to the face, the asteroid being unrealistic expectations for nothing at all. 

 

“And that’s it for this round, ladies and gentlemen!” Keith’s Dad yelled into the microphone with a blank face contrasting with the practiced flair of his voice, exaggeratedly prolonging the vowels, as the pods of the ride gradually eased into a stop. “Pup, where ya been?! Help that boy up, would ya?”

 

A kid bent over his own belly as he tried to undo the belt by himself, desperate to be set free from the prison he willingly walked into. Keith rushed to put him out of his misery and saw him staggering away, before helping the other riders off their seats. While some regretted the decision of ever stepping into the ride, others sported the biggest smiles on their faces, adrenaline pumping their young hearts up to the clouds and keeping them there for quite a while.

 

“That was SO cool! Can I go on that one now?!” Someone said, and Keith looked over his shoulder to find Shiro and Katie contemplating the adventure the Red Lion had to offer.

 

“Nah, your parents are waiting now.” Shiro laughed at her, playfully ruffling her long honey-brown hair and pulling her into an affectionate hug, from which she squirmed away with a fit of giggles. “They’ve had their fix of epinephrine for the night, don’t you think?”

 

A thought left hanging in his mind the year before returned with no pertinence, as Keith wondered if they were family. They were close, for sure, but to what extent? The physical resemblance wasn’t there, but the hand on her small shoulder was affectionate enough to confuse as domestic. Maybe next time he could ask.

 

As if there could be such a thing as a “next time”. The council of the Gods had better things to do than to bless Keith’s paltry existence with constant divine appearances. The hypothetical “tomorrow” was a way to avoid falling into the depression of chance, the fortuitous fields of "maybe" and the precondition of never seeing him again.

 

But Keith was a dreamer, and reality was known for its expertise in dream-shattering.

 

“Off you go, Katie.”

 

“Booooooo.” Katie grumbled, rolling on her feet to walk back to her waiting parents and scarred-for-life brother.

 

Shiro… stayed behind. Kogane had to take a deep breath, engraving in his memory the way Shiro’s nails scraped the short hair on the back of his head as if he was recollecting himself before speaking. Only, the words never came. He rose his hand and pulled the best smile he could manage, a flashing of white teeth and stretching lips, before he began walking after the girl.

 

Keith was glad for the silence but it was also as dreading as the thought of this being goodbye. There was nothing to objectively miss, just a young man's unjustified addiction to the presence of an older person.

 

It didn't make it any less painful, though.

 

"Actually, uh..." Shiro turned on his heel, steel gaze locking with Keith's in a murderous manner.

 

Not quite, Shiro would never, the man was as sweet as a goddamned matcha cake roll with cream filling and chocolate topping, but that stare had Keith pinned between a rock and a hard place, a metaphorical hand around his throat that prevented him from taking a breath for as long as Shiro looked at him.

 

"You take breaks, right? While you're working."

 

Keith must've nodded because Shiro kept talking, but he wouldn't remember something as skimp and insignificant as that gesture.

 

"Cool. Next year, don’t have dinner on the first night of the fair. I mean, you  _ will _ have dinner, but just, wait for me. I'll... It's on me, okay? We can... walk around a bit and eat and... hang out, maybe? Katie probably wants to ride the Red Lion at least once, so… I’ll bring her too."

 

Katie and Matt's dad - whose name Keith was yet to catch - called after Shiro, signaling him to hurry if he still wanted to catch a ride with them, and adding that he would have no problem with leaving him to run after the car.

 

"Don't forget, yeah?" Shiro winked before sprinting after the family he was so close to, an arm coming to rest around the shoulders of the mother, who curled her own arm around his back into a sweet, affectionate embrace. They weren't family, but they might as well be. Keith saw them leave through the gates of the park where the fair was stationed, not missing the last glance Shiro threw over his shoulder.

  
"If ye don't close yer mouth, boy, ye gonna swallow a fly." A playful remark from his dad and a nudge on this chin that made his teeth clack together brought him back from a pre-death state. “Some jackanapes puked all over the platform, mind getting that wiped up, kiddo? Next round is starting soon.”   
  
Keith could have died right then and he would've gone happily, nasty mop in hand, but with a fluttering heart and hazy head, he had a date to hold on to. Not even a stinky pool of regurgitated churros and coke would take that away from him.


	3. iii.

> _ Já senti a cada momento _ _   
>  _ _ Que a saudade é um tormento  
>  _ _ Eu ando louco por regressar _
> 
>  

“Arizona, baby!” James exclaimed awfully loud as he exited his beloved Ford, hands on the small of his back as he tilted himself backwards, stretching until his spine cracked an unhealthy sound. As much as the eldest Kogane loved the freaking vehicle, Keith was aware that he despised how much his ass hurt after hours of traveling in paddless seats that needed to be replaced for being so beyond any hope of mending. He patted the attached trailer, where the pieces of the Red Lion slept, still dismantled and ready for another county fair. “Let’s get something to eat before setting up our big boy.”

 

Against that, Keith said nothing, following his father out to the parking lot of an empty diner. Vacant diners at eleven in the morning was a very clear sign that either the food was no good or that the men’s bathroom had been a crime scene in a recent past.

 

James didn’t give a fuck for whichever scenario; the man just wanted his generous dose of coffee and bacon.

 

The Koganes entered the establishment, a bell over the door announcing their arrival to the single waitress, fresh out of high school, judging by her jovial look. They were welcomed with way too much adornment and guided to a table in the corner, soft blue leather seats greeting two sore pairs of buttcheeks with much needed comfort. After looking over the menu for absolutely no reason, James ordered his coffee and his usual choice of scrambled eggs served over fried tortilla shells, chorizo sausage, black beans, onions and peppers, topped with melted cheese, salsa, sour cream,  _ jalapeños _ and green onions.

 

Keith asked for a simple combination of almond milk and blueberry oatmeal waffles out of habit, but he wasn’t too hungry. Instead, he stared out the window, straight into the sun as if glaring at it would make it move faster.

 

_ Please, make tomorrow come as soon as fucking possible. _

 

“How’s school?” Keith heard before a long sip of coffee. He thought of ignoring Dad’s attempt at a conversation, but he had been listening to music on his earphones the whole trip from Santa Monica, so he had to commit to at least a little chit-chat.

  
“It’s in the same place. They don’t move buildings around yet.”

 

“... Sassy lil’ pup. Just like yer old man, when I was yer age. Can’t blame genes.” James reached to pinch at Keith’s cheek, chuckling lowly upon having his hand swatted away. “You been acting weird. Anything on your mind?”

 

“Not really.” He lied, unsure if it had been detected. Knowing James, he probably saw right through the pretend with those unbreakable dad senses. Were those waffles about done yet? He could really use something to fill his mouth and stop him from saying anything he’d regret.

 

“Ye gonna meet that fellow again?”

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“The tall, Chinese guy, with the floppy bangs.” He explained haltingly, shrugging a bit too often between words. “You two were all friendly last year; you met the year before too, right?”

 

“Dad, he’s  _ Japanese _ , that’s racist as fuck!”

 

“Heck should I know, they look the same! Ain’t he much older than ya, though?”

 

Oh, he would  _ not _ have this conversation. His father’s tone alone was already implying things he wasn’t up to discussing. The waiter returned with their breakfast and James held back the dad speech long enough for Keith to dig in and become able to use the excuse of having his mouth full to delay an answer. The air grew thicker between them as the younger Kogane chewed on the vegan waffles, eyes kept to the plate to avoid his father’s glare cutting through him.

 

“Look, Keith.” Oh no, that was a premise for “a serious  _ talk” _ . Keith wasn’t sure he could handle it, life force being extracted from his body. Bracing himself, the onyx-haired teen tried not to roll his eyes. “As yer father, I wouldn’t feel at ease unless I’d say somethin’. This kind of shit’s dangerous. Some people are up to no good in this world, pup, and ye know better than anyone that all kinds of stuff happen all the time, everyday; from deceits and robberies to kidnappings and I’ll knock hard on wood but, cases of rape-”

 

“Jeez, Dad! Shiro’s not some assaulter, we’re just friends!” Keith snapped, hands balling into fists around the fabric of his jeans to resist the urge to slam them on the table between them. He was about to excuse himself to hide in the bathroom for the entire duration of their breakfast, but pride made him refrain from getting up. 

 

“I know yer not some helpless little lamb, and I trust ya. It’s been like that since ya entered kindergarten; if anyone tries to hurt ya, it’s them I’m worried about, but don’t go around thinking that this dude is the best cookie in the pack just because he winks at ya and says yer pretty.”    
  
Keith would punch anyone who would dare to refer to him as “pretty”.   
  
Maybe not Shiro, though.   
  
“Forbidding ya from doing anything only makes ya all the more eager to go behind my back, so do whatever ya want. But be careful. Whatever you do, wherever you go, always,  _ always _ come back to me.”   
  
The hurt in James’ voice stung deeply and Keith softened at the latent despair, the unsaid words that screamed of memories from long ago but ever present in the heart of a man who spent the past seventeen years of his life loving someone who wasn’t around anymore. Keith saw it and read it clearly like the lines in the palm of his hand.   
  
_ I don’t want to lose you too. _

 

~*~

 

In a night that had barely begun, Keith had learned a whole lot about Takashi Shirogane.

 

He was born in the rural heart of Japan, raised by his sweet and overly traditional grandparents who had, unfortunately, passed away six years ago, before Shiro moved to America. Not much was said of his mum and dad, but it was clear that they weren’t present enough to be worthy of a mention.

 

The family Keith was used to seeing with Shiro was, in fact, the closest he had to any living relatives; a chosen family, who had, however unofficially, adopted him and made him one of their own.

 

“I met Matt in the first year of college and we just... became brothers on campus. It was an instant connection!” He excitedly gestured, doing his best to speak around a large bite on a hot dog towered with all the available toppings. “I was invited over to his place once to study for an exam, and Sam and Colleen - they’re his parents - just kind of fell in love with me too, and before I knew it I had another set of parents, two siblings and a place to head to for Christmas. They’re Italian-Americans, and as you learn the hard way in  _ The Godfather _ ,  _ la famiglia _ is the most important aspect of an Italian’s life. They’re just… amazing. They’re the best I could ever ask for.”

 

Oh, and… he was gay. Full out  _ gay _ , never had swing to the right and never would. And the detail that had Keith’s heart singing “ _ Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now _ ”, Takashi Shirogane was  _ single  _ as of past March. The girl Keith had seen him with on year one was called Allura, and while they were great friends, they butted heads all the time in the post-grad classes they had together.

 

Speaking of which, he also found out that Shiro was finishing his post-grad in Education. Of all things, a man like him wanted to be a teacher, have snotty kids around him all day, teaching them how to write, read and basic calculus? How  _ dull _ , he joked. As the conversation progressed, Keith realized that it wasn’t quite that; he meant to teach astrophysics to older, college and doctorate level students. Something much more sophisticated and beyond his understanding, but the little twinkle of fascination Keith had always held for the night sky and unknown portion of the Universe shone brightly for the first time in years. He could listen to Shiro ramble about the constellations and kinesthetic astronomy for hours, just try him.

 

Shiro considered himself a cat person, but overall an animal lover. This topic came with a mandatory display of about thirty photos of his cat,  _ Black _ . He wasn’t very creative with names, Keith decided in silence, admiring the digital capture of a big, majestic long-haired well-loved black-coated cat lounging by the window of what must be Shiro’s apartment.

 

Shiro was a Leap Year Day baby - an infant, as his friends loved to joke about every February 29th. He was both a  _ Trekkie _ and a _ Whovian _ . Spelling champion in high school, captain of the trekking team, also played football in college (of course he would be the quarterback, what other position would be worthy of the flashy smile and broad muscles and the whole attention that came with consecutive victories?). He wore braces until he was twelve and he was lactose intolerant.

 

In comparison, there was so little of himself to share. Just… a boy. Seventeen, now. Born in the South, moved to the Big Apple to live with his uncle and joined his Father during the Summer months to travel around the country a bit, with a mechanic beast which was a pain to assemble, tend for and dismantle again. That was it? Was he truly this bland? One year had passed and Keith felt so diminished and uninteresting, upon faced with the dreaded request, “Enough about me; tell me more about yourself.”

 

They were already perfectly close, their knees bumping beneath the small table, but under the excuse of the noise that began intensifying around them as a loud group entered the restaurant, Shiro leaned forward on the table, resting on his crossed arms so he could hear him better. The angle provided a privileged sight over the Japanese man’s chest, Keith’s deviant eyes avoiding to peek over the V-shaped cleavage of the other’s shirt.

 

Suddenly he forgot everything except his own taste in perfectly round and soft pecs that sunk to the touch and became aware of the fact that the only thing he recalled about himself was how  _ madly _ in love he was with the man before him.

  


 

“Well… I’m vegetarian.” He stated uselessly, poking at his food - grilled tofu, covered in jerk sauce accompanied by black beans. Keith punched himself in the face mentally.  _ Dumbass. _ Shiro had already figured that out during their initial hunt around the fair for a place with meat-free meal options while simultaneously avoiding the McClain booth because Keith didn’t need the embarrassment of having Lance interrupting what he had already classified as a date. “Not only because of the environmental impact and unnecessary animal butchery, I just don’t really like the taste.”

 

“That’s still commendable.”

 

Keith swallowed the saliva he allowed to pool inside his mouth, wondering if there was any way this man could look any more ambrosial, with his chin resting on his palm, cheek slightly puffed against his hand.  _ Hardly _ was his guess.

 

What was truly commendable was how well he was behaving, considering the circumstances. Despite the nervously bouncing leg he still managed to hold back the urge of tugging that man closer by the edge of his shirt for a kiss and God knows what else. Shiro’s presence was dreamy, their easy banter beyond anything he would’ve expected. Who would’ve known things would flow so easily after the initial awkwardness? Shiro adapted to Keith, it seemed, learning from experience and body language when to press a matter and when to let it go, when to come closer and when to create distance between them. It made him feel so comfortable he almost forgot his place.

 

“Kinda…”

 

“What else?” At that, Keith offered nothing but uncertain silence. “Alright, let’s make a game out of this. We take turns in asking each other a question, and we both have to answer it. Got it? I’ll go first. Favorite color.” Shiro pointed towards the tight shirt he wore, and Keith almost missed the point of the question by glancing at the defined chest instead of the presented color. 

 

“Purple? Really?” Upon closer analysis, he should’ve known. Purple coalesces the calm and stability of blue and the fierce energy of red. It’s associated with nobility, wisdom, dignity and ambition, meanings that ooze out of Shiro’s personality like the aura of an angel. “I wouldn’t’ve guess.”

 

“I mostly wear black, so yeah, most people wouldn’t know.” He chuckled and the youngster might’ve melted into his seat a bit. “As for yours… I’m guessing... red. You look like a red type of guy.”

 

“What gave it away?”

 

“The jacket did.” Shiro reached for the lapel of the slim-fit faux-leather biker jacket, tugging on it as if to illustrate his point. Had he used just a little more force on his pull, then Keith would’ve leant in, a victim to gravity, and spontaneously combust from the closeness. Cause of death: an informal, pithy touch over the unfortunately thick layers of clothing he wore. “It just fits you.”

 

“Impressive deduction skills.”

 

Shiro cackled upon learning that Keith’s favorite animal was the hippopotamus. A very good National Geographic documentary had convinced a five-year-old Keith that they were super awesome and deadly, while equally cute and round. They were adorable! Shiro’s favorite food was ramen noodles, though he vehemently objected when Keith said he tried some before; average supermarket cup noodles were not comparable to the real  _ tonkotsu _ ramen. The game went on, though not for long.

 

“I suppose I should get going, Katie has to be home in… about twenty minutes.” Shiro finished his sentence after checking his wrist watch, a sports model not too recent to be flashy nor too vintage to be cool. Keith hated watches; in the digital era they were in it was so futile and stupid and ancient and there was simply no practical need for the usage of timepieces any more, but it was just slightly loose around Shiro’s wrist and it looked unexplainably  _ sexy _ with the ramified pattern of popping blue veins of his arms, and matched nicely with the combination of two leather string bracelets and a tacky looking homemade one with colorful glittery beads that matched Katie’s. “I hope she hasn’t been bothering your Dad too much.”

 

“Don’t worry, he likes kids.”  _ No, he doesn’t, but I’ll make sure he won’t fuck this up for me. _

 

They walked back as slowly as they possibly could, stopping for ice cream (which lead to the discovery that Shiro was in fact a heathen, an agnostic criminal who enjoyed something as profane as green tea flavored ice cream), their shoulders not-so-accidentally bumping every other step. For all the times Red Lion caught Keith’s eye in the distance, this time was the most abominable; it meant that each step they took, their kind-of-date was coming to a regretful end.

 

Once they reached the beginning of the platform, they looked around to find Katie holding herself up on the Red Lion’s ticket office window, comfortably examining all the shiny lights of the control panel with bright hazel eyes and asking what each of them did, and Keith’s dad playfully poked her nose.  _ Ain’t you a curious little cutie _ , he said, before winking and kindly shooing her away so he could get back to work.

 

While some people left, others arrived and the night was still young. Keith still had a few hours of belt buckling and safety checking but the flashing lights seemed to dull out now that Shiro prepared to leave, his hand resting on Katie’s shoulder.

 

“Well… I hope you had fun. I know I did.” Keith nodded, eating away at his lower lip. He was still mental and physically recovering from the fact that he had gone on a date with someone like Shiro. How lucky could he get? Whatever the price karma decided to charge for these heavenly hours spent with this stunning man, he would gladly pay, over and over, for just a fraction of a second more. “I’ll see you around…? If you’re not bored of me yet.  We still have the fireworks tomorrow! I thought we could… watch them together?”

 

There was a lot of romantic connotation to watching fireworks together, at least in Keith’s head. It was a  _ shoujo manga _ kind of moment, dazzled with sparkles and blurry corners, a large arm around him, an exchanged look, sudden proximity and--

 

The thought of a kiss reddened his features until he remembered that he probably owed Shiro a reply, which came in the form of a frantic nod.

 

Keith held onto that promise dearly. He almost didn’t mind the mosquito feasting on his calf during the night and the itch that dragged on through most of it was nothing compared to the frequency of his heart under the buzzing anticipation of a second date.

 

~*~

 

A pair of big veiny hands blocked the neon lights from Keith’s vision, the darkness engulfing him with a pseudo-embrace from behind, his back colliding with a strong built chest. He didn’t have to rest his own fingerless glove clad hands above the newcomer’s, nor hear the sweet sing-song voice near his ear whispering “Guess who~” to figure out the identity of the one behind him. But he did it anyway, dwelling on the touch and melting over the sound, replaying it on loop in his lovestruck mind.

 

“Shirooooo.” He called out with fake annoyance, wiggling out of the grip only to receive a compressing reunion hug once he turned to the man, which was replied to with a little crushing force of his own, as if it hadn’t been less than a day since they last saw each other. “Who else would approach me in such a lame manner?”

 

“You love it.” The Japanese man chuckled and Keith was reminded of why he loved him so much; not like he would have forgotten when his own smile was powered by Shiro’s. “I missed you.”

 

Those words were murmured against his neck, where the tips of his hair began to curl, the warm breath making him shiver discreetly. He would treasure that sensation, pack it up in a memory box which was overflowing already with the tiniest little precious details he so warmly associated to Shiro.

 

The burning gaze of his dad on them both didn’t go unnoticed, and Keith only wished he could have noticed earlier that the older Kogane was approaching. 

 

“So, yer ‘round here again tonight.” He greeted with a certain bitterness, but maybe only through Keith’s ear filters because Shiro, as courteous as ever, reached out his palm to squeeze James’ with great resolution.

 

“Good evening, sir! A pleasure to see you again.”

 

Two giants about the same height stared deep into each other’s eyes. They seemed to exchange silent words, a clashing dialogue between closed mouths, which had Keith a bit on edge, deciding if he ought to intervene. He knew his father wouldn’t push Shiro away by intimidating him - nor would he allow that to happen,  _ what the fuck _ \- but James was also extremely protective of him and capable of about anything to make sure he’d be safe, and  _ holy cow can somebody stop that excessively protracted handshake?! _ It lasted for longer than it had to and was broken only when the ashes from the tip of the cigarette James’ held between his lips fell to the dusty ground.

 

“... Take care of my boy, ye hear?” James pleaded after a while, pride pushed aside with a smile for the sake of trust and the simple act of letting go.

 

“Of course, sir.” The promise was immediate and showed a matching smile to the Kogane. “I’ll have him back after the fireworks.”

 

~*~

 

Keith bit on the tip of his straw, remnants of the acidic lemonade flavor dragged from the plastic. His indigo eyes ran through every inch of Shiro’s face as he rambled about his experience in his internship at a local university. He enjoyed this, even if he didn’t talk much himself; to be honest he had nothing to say except how much he loved hearing Shiro talk about anything at all. 

 

“What’s your thesis about?” Keith asked, though he supposed he could’ve waited for Shiro to finish his bite on the pulled pork sandwich to land the question. “If it’s not too intricate.” The dork before him just worked a chuckle through the greasy meat around his mouth, rushing his reply through a full mouth, a stripe of red onion falling to his chin.

 

“Well, it’s kind of complicated to explain but if I can’t demonstrate it properly to someone who doesn’t know what I’m talking about, I’m not doing it right.” Finally, he swallowed the food, pausing to take a sip on his fresh  _ Somersby _ before continuing, now more clearly. “It focuses on the process of the formation of stars, and develops into the dissection of the chemical enrichment in local galaxies from integral field spectroscopy!”

 

“Makes sense, totally.” Keith nodded. He got the first part, but his confusion rested on the second bit, words too complicated for someone uneducated on astronomical terms. Maybe one day he could learn more about it. He would love to discover the secrets of the Universe with the stellar man that was Takashi Shirogane.

 

“That sarcasm is more motivational than you can possibly know, so I’ll take it.” He smiled and Keith gained a couple years of life, the power of that splendid smile enough to trigger, regulate and quench star formation on galactic scales. “Alright. Come along.”

 

Shiro got up before Keith could as much as inquire the older man as to where they were going. He trusted him enough to not ask, walking across the fair with a relaxed pace, which was now far more crowded than when they hid inside a restaurant booth for their dinner.

 

Keith and Shiro were so full with their meals any other scent was the opposite of tempting, brushing just short of repulsive. With that, they moved past the food court, glad to leave the greasiness behind. A kaleidoscope of colors almost overwhelming blurred in the corners of their smiling eyes, dissipating in the intimacy of their private moment, their hands tangling together discreetly, their arms glued to their sides. Shiro nuzzled on Keith’s temple, a giggle slipping through the youngster’s lips as they walked.

 

Kids ran around with balloons of their favorite cartoon characters tied to their little wrists, the parents and family admiring the exposed goods, trying out new sweet treats or reminiscing about today’s cotton candy tastes more artificial than it did back in the day. Some booths had their own radio playing, but through equally spaced speakers across the streets had the same song banging over voices and other playlists. Keith was about to remark how that was totally a Miley Cyrus song, even if he could never tell her songs apart from mostly any other pop singer these days, when Shiro bumped on his side to urge him to take a left.

 

“Okay! We’re here.”

 

Arcade. Keith should’ve guessed Shiro would bring him here. Racing games with those super comfy car seats, pinball, shooting simulators, pachin slot games, air hockey, bowling even further down, and some arcade video game classics like  _ Donkey Kong _ ,  _ Guitar Freaks _ , and the legendary  _ Galaxian _ (an improved version of Space Invaders). How those last three still worked with the several years dusting on them, Keith wouldn’t know.

 

“I’m the champion at the local arcade, F-Y-I.” He proudly stated with a swelling of his chest, “Three years in a row. I have an exclusive parking spot and all.”

 

“There ain’t that many people in this town, so no wonder, you probably just don’t have enough competition.”

 

Shiro squinted at him and playfully shoved him away, giggling before trapping the smaller man back under his arm. “Is that a threat, Kogane?”

 

“Might just be.” Keith took the freedom to curl his own arm around Shiro’s back and staying there as they discussed what they could play together. Keith may not hold the untouchable title of Arcade Champion™ but he’s been around these machines enough to know his way around them.

 

He playfully cracked his knuckles, examining the covered structures that housed over a hundred machines, digital or table games. Did Shiro even know what he was getting into with his challenge? If he planned to compete with Keith, he’d be in for a little surprise.

 

They tried several attractions, making use of Shiro’s perk of unlimited tokens. When they stopped at a claw machine, his memory drifted back to when he was a lot younger and smaller, his arm lean enough to fit inside the machine to personally claw whatever prize was closest to the dropping tank. He was caught red handed by the shopkeeper once, though; his dad was disappointed only because he got caught doing it. Boys will be boys and a dollar a try was far too expensive for the low quality of the toys within the prize pit. 

 

“I promise I’m good at this.” Shiro stated with shaky confidence, slipping an arcade silver coin into the machine, grabbing the joystick and doing a series of mental calculations that would help him figure out the best course of action. Keith’s nose almost touched the glass front, his eyes focused on the metal claw. Once it began moving, it greedily groped around three plushies at once - a recipe for disaster. Keith nibbled on his lower lip, forcing himself to simply observe Shiro’s technique. Well, he might’ve have been a total ace at racing games and killed him at both skeeball and air hockey, but clearly crane games were not his strong point.

 

Shiro lifted the claw, close to the time limit, only to see all three treasures fall back into their rightful place. That had been attempt number one.

 

“Incredible, oh mighty champion.” Keith teased, hiding his grinning mouth behind the sleeve of his hoodie. “Teach me the ways.”

 

“Hush now, you’ll injure my concentration.”

 

“Hm. I have been bested by the machine.” Shiro chuckled. “A true man knows how to quit.”

 

“That’s loser talk.”

 

“Oh, is that so, newbie? Why don’t you enlighten me with your skills, then?”

 

A coin was held before his eyes, and Keith Daniel Kogane was not one to back down from a challenge.

 

The reflection of the man of his dreams on the glass only added more pressure upon his shoulders, but it was a good sort of pressure, the type that doesn’t let you fail for dear  _ life _ . It was a game, just that, but anything became so much more intense under the attentive gaze of Takashi Shirogane.

 

There was more to win out of this that a stupid plushie. 

 

Running his hands through his tar colored hair, Keith examined the prize pit; first things first, the offer wasn’t too vast, but that was a good omen. Overly packed pits were the doom of any claw, their closeness making it impossible to claw onto anything at all. His eyes locked with the ideal prize; sticking out a little bit, not being obstructed by any other prizes, and not too close to the side, nor the other end of the battlefield - because, yes, the damn crane game was making him sweat like a Persian soldier in  _ 300 _ .

 

A cat. Perfect.

 

He should get a feel of the claw, a test run. But he’d gather the information from Shiro’s play and simply assume the grip and jiggliness of the claw. Luckily it wasn’t one of those with two prongs alone, that rose his chances of success at least forty percent.

 

Alright. Here goes nothing.

 

Keith slid the coin in, the timer stressing him out with constant beeps. He focused on placing the claw just above the wanted price, a bit to the left,  _ no no, too much, backwards and to the right just a bit, beep beep beep _ \--

 

He pressed the button on the joystick seconds away from losing his game to time, motioning the claw’s command to descend and nab at the plushie. Much to Keith’s surprise, it actually…

 

Worked…?

 

He followed the item with his eyes, standing in disbelief as the cat fell on the basket. O-Oh. He gathered his hardwon prize, feeling the sweat on his forehead - oh wow he worked so hard for the past fifty seconds or so to get this.

 

Shiro stared at him with a risen eyebrow and a matching side smirk. “Not bad at all.”

 

“For you.” Keith offered with a little shy smile. “It’s Black.” 

 

“My pride as a hardcore arcade gamer has been wounded, but I’ll accept this… cheap, yet loving representation of every single black cat in the world, but also my own.” Shiro joked, holding the plushie next to his face. Could this guy actually glow out of happiness? Maybe it was Keith’s eyes, getting teary at the sight. He wiped at them, hoping Shiro wouldn’t notice.

 

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

 

“Am not, and I’ll prove you so. Wait here.” Shiro disappeared behind a slot machine, leaving Keith to look down at the floor, noticing the cables that were covered by an ugly carpet, an insult to anyone’s tastes. Was that… a soda… no, years old puke stain? Gross.

 

He looked up when he saw Shiro again, followed by-...

 

_ Oh lord. _

 

“I spent all that’s left of my coin supply for the month on this.” Under his arm he brought a gigantic - fucking  _ enormous _ , what the hell - stuffed hippopotamus. It was of a light lavender, the teeth round and white and the nostrils, so big, the belly pink and so darn... cute! Keith took the gift and dearly nuzzled on it, the damn thing was almost bigger than him, the hippo’s thick legs dangling on the floor. It smelled like it had been carelessly kept in a box for quite a long time, but no more of that disrespectful nonsense. 

 

_ Don’t fret, little hippo, _ Keith mused to himself, _ you’ll be loved forevermore. _

  
  
  


Their hurried trek took them to the top of a hill shortly after the spectacle began, where other people gathered, sitting on their jackets or, those who came prepared, in portable camper chairs or long towels for the whole family. Shiro and Keith didn’t seem to care too much about getting dust on their jeans, and simply thumped down with their asses on the sand, eyes set on the fireworks that had just been launched, the competed with the stars above.

 

The fireworks exploded like galaxies in the black sky shattering, but Keith was mostly enthralled by the man next to him, the scent of Shiro’s clothes, his skin reflecting the kaleidoscope of the lights, his overwhelming presence… Keith felt some warm fireworks of his own inside his chest as he laid comfortably against Shiro’s side, nuzzling on his upper arm. It wasn’t a cold night at all, but Shiro must’ve taken that proximity as a hint to wrap his arm around the smaller boy, unaware that he had just made Keith’s heart spontaneously combust.

  
  
  


It had been marvelous, though just barely short of perfect. Not that Keith would ask for any more than he had been blessed with. In those lame Saturday afternoon movies, the fireworks would've been the cheesiest opportunity for a first kiss, but as they walked back to the Red Lion, Keith’s logical side of the brain hammered on the fact that he wasn’t the main character of a movie adaptation of a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

 

“So… this is it.”

 

Keith nodded as he shyly combed a few strands of black hair behind his ear, eyes focusing on the suddenly very interesting pebble on the dried desert soil. The pause that followed hung heavily between them, their skins hued by the flash of the surrounding neon signs and colorful lamps. Their shirts stuck to the end of their backs like an additional layer of skin, the humid and hot late Summer weather of August as magical as it was inconvenient. Keith wondered, if they were in a cheesy teenage movie, this would be the perfect opportunity for a kiss. He might’ve threatened a step forward, but was stilled by three words he didn’t want to hear, the warmth encompassing them dissipating into cold awareness.

 

“Goodnight then, Keith.”

 

This was… inevitable, from the start. It was as it had to be.

 

“... Bye.” They waved at each other, and before he could even think of staring at Shiro as he turned to leave, Keith did the same, climbing the rest of the aluminium steps as the other walked down. It was somehow painful, the physical realization that the time they had spent together these past two nights would dissolve in the tissue of time like water soaking fabric; eventually it would dry up and Shiro wouldn’t remember him after a few months. He’d go back to being just a kid he bantered with during the annual fair. Keith,  _ au contraire _ , would mercilessly keep obsessing over the celestial existence of a man such as Takashi Shirogane. Something told him it’d be worse, now that he knew for sure this man was the perfect culmination of  _ snips, snails and puppy dog-tails _ . He almost wished his year-long fantasies had been wrong, but the good, easy moments they shared filled his heart with more joy than it could take without ripping at the seams.

 

They held hands, for fuck’s sake, they held  _ each other _ . Nothing else would get Keith going the way the memory of Shiro’s touch did.

 

It would be lost, though, and it was selfish of him to want more than the Universe had been kind enough to offer, but Kogane was still glad for what little they had shared.

 

“... Hey, Keith?” From the lowest aluminium step of the installation, Shiro ran back up two steps at a time just because his long legs allowed him to do so, Keith’s heart struggling to keep up to the sudden movement. In his hand, an unlocked smartphone, extended towards Kogane. “Write your number there? So we can keep in touch. If you want to.”

 

Fuck yeah he wanted to; was that question even serious? A summer love, leaking across the remaining months of the year? If Shiro was this blooming in the summer, Keith could only imagine how he’d be like in the rest of the seasons. Sign him the fuck up to find out.

 

He took the device and tried to recall the series of numbers, making sure he didn’t misplace any of the ten digits, and as he was confirming the operation, an error message popped up.

 

“Oh.” He flipped it towards Shiro. “Says you already have a contact saved as ‘Keith’...?”

 

“Oh, damn. Yeah, that must be Keith from high school.” He slid his thumb around the screen and tapped it a few times - either specifying his contact information or deleting the other - hopefully the latter, Keith mused, telling a “there can only be one” joke to himself. “Okay, come here.”

 

With that, Shiro positioned himself next to Keith, arm curling around the smaller boy’s shoulders, his other arm extended above the level of his eyes, which was about a whole head higher than Keith - who needs selfie-sticks when your arms are that long,  _ wow _ , Shiro never stopped amazing Keith. In the screen, Keith saw the reversed image of him with Shiro, closely pressed together to fit the frame of the frontal camera for a quick photo Just in case, the Japanese man snapped three or four pictures in a row.

 

“That way I won’t confuse you two.” He declared, turning the screen to show the assigned contact picture. How  _ lame _ , Keith observed, that his face was so… ugh. What type of face does one do for selfies, anyway? Keith was not experienced with that, but his face wasn’t the point, no, not when Shiro and his breathtaking smile took the spotlight of the picture. “N-Not that I would, just… You know. That was also an excuse to get a picture with you, to be honest--”

 

Keith knew that, so he smiled up at the other, suddenly so shameless about the hand that rested on Shiro’s chest, feeling the increasing palpitating of his heart and realizing that his own pulse matched.

 

With an effort for Shiro to bend his neck and Keith to tilt his head further up, they were too far but then much too close, their personal spaces merging into a cozy halfway, their lips touching, the stars coming down, the laws of attraction and romance making more sense than mathematics or physics ever did, and the galaxies bursting behind Keith’s half-closed eyelids. Part of that was a hallucination, but not the kiss, oh no, not  _ that _ kiss that made Keith dizzy, so pleasurably numbing, so warm inside and so, so fucking in love.

 

Must be the dopamine, which triggered the euphoria he would have felt if he had been on heroin or cocaine. Fuck, now he’d be addicted to this and he wanted more already,  _ please Shiro, stay, holy fuck, don’t break the kiss right now. _

 

Keith’s lean silhouette was dark against Red Lion’s bright spotlights but Shiro didn’t seem too bothered by the counter exposition as he pulled back to flash a smile even brighter, eyes clouded with the intensity of words yet unsaid but already shared in the affinity of a kiss.

 

“I’ll see you next year, yeah?” He whispered.

 

There was enough power in that promise to make Keith’s knees quiver.

 

“... Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the lovely [BlueyBlues!](https://blueyblues.tumblr.com/)


	4. iv.

_ De pôr os pés a caminho, _

_ Provar o gosto do vinho _ _   
_ _ Eu ando louco por regressar _

 

**_[Sheewo, 10:54AM]  Moooorning, sunshine! (_ **

 

Keith frowned at the vibration echoing through the wood of the bedside table, but his morning grogginess disappeared as instantly as Shiro’s nickname (because after a whole year of texting and long distance kind-of-dating they totally had those) popped up next to a cropped bit of the text message he received. He tapped it open to read the rest, face half-buried in the pillow of mediocre quality. The sun might as well have been bursting through the screen of his smartphone, the brightness blinding him instantly. It took a few seconds for his vision to readjust, but as soon as it did, his eyes had scanned through the whole message and his heart might have pumped faster for a second or two.

 

**_[Sheewo, 10:54AM] Moooorning, sunshine! (/ω＼)_ ** **_  
_ ** **_The flight went smoothly, we just arrived at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before we head to the observatory! (`･ω･´)9_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_You’re probably still sleeping, so, keep doing just that!_

 

In his hand, the phone shook with a new notification within the same app and Keith never pressed the damn screen as fast.

 

**_[Sheewo, 10:55AM]  PICTURE RECEIVED. TAP TO DOWNLOAD._ **

 

How could a man, sixteen hours ahead of Keith, tired after a long flight, be up and looking fresh like  _ that _ while Keith barely found the willpower to roll off of the cranky motel bed for breakfast before eleven? Standing in the middle of what appeared to be the lobby of the hotel in his senior officer outfit, Shiro smiled down at the frontal camera of his smartphone, at Keith, biting the edge of his lip with a sweet promise of a good morning kiss, were distance not an issue. How unfair, that a future astrophysics teacher held the universe in his eyes, the rings of Saturn in his smile and the temptation of the unknown on his lips.

 

**_[Sheewo, 10:55AM]  Can’t wait to see you. Love you. (*￣з￣)/_ **

 

The last bit of the text message hung sweetly, the mind-crafted memory of Shiro’s voice twisting to form those words and playing them on repeat, over and over, until they became white noise to the fast typing of his response. 

 

Should he…? Well, he did it anyway, angling his phone to snap a photograph of himself, face half-buried on his pillow, bare shoulder just peeking out of the sheets that covered his torso, the shy hint of a smile pulling at the visible corner of his lips. Kind of cute, he hoped, rather than mostly idiotic. To avoid the temptation of overthinking the damn picture and take a hundred more with slight position variance, he simply sent it attached to the text he had previously typed.

 

**_[Keef, 10:58AM]  cant wait either. love u too, get some rest_ **

 

Reality hit him when he rolled belly up, the blinds of the motel windows slicing him with lines of morning light, the rusty sound of broken mattress springs complaining at his weight. His spine kind of cracked as well, doing some complaining of its own. His stomach made a noise too, notifying him that it had been an hour short of twelve since he last fed himself.

 

Just an arm’s reach away, in a bed equal to the one he had claimed for the night, James snored, a low rumbling timed with the ups and downs of his bare hairy chest, the sheet kicked to the end of the bed at some point in the night. His forehead was glistening; the AC was broken and dad was always the type to feel hot even if it wasn’t, as if the sun was itching underneath the layers of his tanned skin, and Fresno, being as close to the literal desert of death as it was, was as second handedly hot in late July, thus Keith couldn’t blame the man for sweating the nights away.

 

The overheating man seemed to hear Keith’s loud thoughts and opened his eyes after groaning and cursing the weather and demanding breakfast as if it could carry itself from the buffet cafeteria downstairs.

 

“Shower first. You stink.” Keith provided, smirking at the older man.

 

“Amongst all the fried food, cigarette smoke, and desert dust, no one really notices how a ride operator smells, pup.”

 

“ _ I _ do mind, I’m seen with you.” A pillow was playfully thrown at him and after a long set of minutes, James rolled out of bed to stumble towards and disappear into the bathroom, the door left half-open behind him. Privacy was never really an issue between them, not from his dad’s perspective anyway.  _ That’s where ye came from, no shame in that, _ he’d say.

 

For the sake of ignoring the sound of piss hitting the bottom of the toilet, Keith turned in bed, grabbing his phone again and running his thumb across the lock screen picture. It had been the only photograph him and Shiro had had a chance to snap together.

 

_ A preface to their first kiss. _

 

Shiro was beautiful as always, his cheek hovering close to Keith’s, cute dimples in the corners of his mouth following the curve of his smile. Keith, on the other hand, looked like a complete loser, so much shorter than the other, fearful doe-like eyes as if he had never seen a phone before, lips pressed together in a nervous line which  _ attempted _ at a smile, oversized black hoodie with three pinback badges on the left side, Shiro’s arm resting around his shoulders... He should’ve at least taken the chance to return the hug the other stole, lean closer, feel him more… God only knew what he would give to do just that in this moment… He nuzzled on the pillow instead, imagining what it would be like to have Shiro there, his strong arms wrapped around him, that characteristic scent overlapping the mustiness of the motel sheets. Maybe he would kiss him again, and maybe this time Keith would be prepared.

 

For the past months, their online flirting had stepped up some ladders, which had Keith exploring uncharted regions of self-discovery and healthy egotism. With Shiro, Keith had learned to love himself more, to understand who he was, be it in the realms of sexuality or his identity and relation to others. They were dating… Kind of. The Japanese man had made sure to state that he wanted to do it face to face, in the early days of August, those days that had become so special for the two of them. Shiro even joked about riding that forsaken ferris wheel again for the complete cliché fantasy of asking him to be his boyfriend right where they started talking!

 

Keith definitely wouldn’t like that. At all. …Though it was kind of cute.

 

_ Two weeks _ , he thought, sinking his face deeper into the pillow,  _ Two weeks and they would become official. _

 

The repeated reverberation of the cell phone against the mattress caught his attention, the rhythm of an incoming call from the app he used to chat with Shiro. He wasn’t counting on a call, but after glancing over his shoulder to make sure his dad would take a while in the bathroom, he picked up with a low tone.

 

“Hey, you. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

 

**_“Not without hearing your voice. You alone?”_ ** Like honey. Thick and velvety, that voice that had Keith enchanted. It filled his ears and his heart and it was so powerful it had him shivering into the sheets. He nodded at the question before he remembered Shiro couldn’t see that and hurried to whisper back his reply.

 

“Yeah. Dad’s in the bathroom, but he’ll be a while.”

 

**_“Good... Do you have time?”_ ** A wholesome sigh from the other side of the call and the world suddenly became wrapped in this little territorial bubble of theirs, the interdimensional plane in which they could meet in their minds. A silly fantasy they had rehearsed, a mental cosmo created just for the two of them to visit when they missed each other like this. Keith recognized that tone; he knew what Shiro wanted and he was more than glad to realize, by the slowly awakening boner underneath his boxers, that he wanted it too. **_“I was thinking of you...”_ **

 

“Were you?” Uncertain, Keith shifted so that he could peek into the bathroom, checking through the oval shaped mirror that his dad was done with his morning duty, and by the sounds of running water, prepared for a shower.  _ Thank God, he’d be in there for a long while. _ “Good things, I hope.”

 

**_“There are, objectively, only good things to think about when it comes to you, lovely.”_ ** Keith heard the rustling of fresh sheets, muffled by the sound of Shiro's breathing. Was he laying down? After such a long day, he deserved that relief.

 

"You’re a flirt. Are you sure you want to do this now...?" He wanted to confirm. The poor man should be beyond exhausted, having only just arrived at the hotel he'd be staying on for the night. Were Allura and Matt in different rooms? Most likely, otherwise Shiro wouldn’t be so indiscreet.

 

**_"I've been anticipating this the whole trip, thanks to that picture you sent last night."_ ** Ah. The weirdly angled photo of his dick. A dare gone naughty with no hint of regret. Keith felt his face heating up. It was a badly framed perspective of the bulge in his pants, the product of their harmless teasing game; looking back now it was hard to believe he had actually gone ahead and done something like that. A chuckle was heard.  **_"So, you kind of owe me now."_ **

 

“Actually… It’s you who owes me something.” Keith countered, the volume of his voice lowering under the fear of having his father disrupting the intimate little moment he was having with Shiro. 

 

**_“That so?”_ **

 

“Yeah. I want one too.”

 

There were moments of hesitation filled with hints of giggles, but after an elongated “fiiiine”, Keith’s phone vibrated with a notification, a photo popping up in their private chat.

 

“O-Oh.” Keith stuttered, biting his lower lip as he entrailed the image that had been sent. Shiro hooked the elastic band of his skin tight underwear with his finger, pulling it up to expose his privates. All of the Shiro Keith already knew was big, with broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs, large heart… it was a matter of proportion that his cock would be just as sizable. He gulped, only then imagining what it would be like to suck it.

 

He cleared his throat as if that’d clear his mind from his unrealistic little virgin reverie. 

 

“T-That looks like a big problem.” He teased, feeling a tingle on his lower belly as he trailed his fingers down his dark happy trail, belly sinking at the teasing contact. He imagined Shiro’s hands following that same path, surprising himself with the celerity of this visual library, putting up that mental image for him for bite his lip at.

 

**_“Good thing you have big hands.”_ **

 

Keith massaged his growing bulge over his briefs, glancing at the bathroom door once more. Dad seemed distracted enough by running water down his body, and thus Keith left him to that and focused on his erection, caressing it to entice it to grow at the naughty words that were breathed into his ear through a miles long connection.

 

**_“Are you doing it?”_ **

 

“Y-yeah.” He breathed. “Picturing you touching me.”

 

**_“I’d love to do just that, baby… Run my hands down your sides and pull you to me.”_ ** Keith was almost tugged by those imaginary hands, guided across the unscripted fantasy that just came to their heads as they progressed, an erotic tale being narrated in the first and second person at his ear.  **_“I’d love to kiss you, Keith...”_ **

 

The brunet licked his lips; he would love that  _ very _ much as well. Tilting his head up to bury it further into the pillow, Keith imagined Shiro’s hasty lips running down his neck, marking and licking his skin.

 

**_“Grab it, Keith. Stroke it slowly, let me hear you moan for me.”_ ** Shiro ordered, Keith’s breath hitching at the command. He did so, and he knew, he knew that Shiro had his hand around that thick cock of his from the sounds he was making alone.

 

What was going through the other’s mind, Keith wondered? His mouth around him? He wanted to try that, to feel Shiro’s volume fill up his mouth, weighing on his tongue, pulsing on his throat. Had he said that out loud? Shiro’s groan made it seem so. 

 

**_“I bet you’d be so good with your mouth… You’re doing so good, baby, that’s it… Can you use your other hand? I want you to open yourself up for me.”_ **

 

_ Oh fuck fuck fuck-- Easy _ , he told himself, steadying by closing his eyes momentarily. That was a wholesome mental image; it wasn’t the first time he’d use fingers on his entrance, much less with Shiro listening, but there was something about the last bit of that sentence, a new appendage to his usual discourse: “for me”.

 

**_“Still with me, Keith?”_ **

 

“Ye’, sorry… It was just a bit overwhelming.” He giggled into the phone, holding it between his cheek and shoulder, the newly freed hand traveling down to cup his balls and reach behind them, his saliva lubricated digits poking at his entrance and wiggling their way inside, as if it were something else, a girthier organ, dripping with precome. The picture he had received flashed on his mind, and  _ wow, would he even be physically capable of taking it when the time came? _ Before the question was asked, Keith muttered the answer. “I managed two in, this time.”

 

**_“Woah, adventurer.”_ ** He laughed.  **_“You’re just begging to have me inside you, aren’t you? Would you like that? I can’t wait to have you, baby...”_ **

 

Oh no.

 

_ Shit.  _

 

Keith’s self control slipped away at the fantasy of being pinned down by Shiro, that beautiful cock he had seen for the first time fucking so deliciously into him at the rhythm he so chose with his fingers, his hand tightening and jerking harder as he impaled those two fingers inside, as deep as the second knuckle. He came with rapid gasps, silenced only when he let go of his phone to bite on his clenched fist, teeth sinking between the knuckles, a few groans escaping through. Nearly transparent drops kept on leaking from the blushy swollen tip, the Great Wave painted by Shiro’s moans making his hips shake with the aftermath. He heard his boyfriend orgasm, and a sinful little part of him imagined what it’d be like to taste him.

 

_ Damn, that was a good cum. _

 

There was barely any time to breathe when he heard the rusty faucet of the shower being turned, the noises of water ceasing.

 

“Shit… I-I have to go… my dad.”

 

**_“Of course.”_ ** A few short pants, followed by a warm tone of voice, wiped away of any sexual deviation.  **_“Talk to you when I wake up! Have a good day, Keith.”_ **

 

~*~

 

Shiro’s visit to Japan would last no more than a week and a half. He would have a lot to do in his home country; the whole purpose of the trip rested on the participation in an astronomical convention at a newly inaugurated observatory. There, Shiro would be able to deepen his research, personally interview masters in the field, and essentially instantiate his thesis in a way no theoretic book ever could while simultaneously putting in a word for himself in the industry. The first day, however, was all theirs to enjoy.

 

Photographs were promised and promptly delivered; Keith kept an eye on Allura's consecutive Instagram posts and story updates, of her posing in a busy commercial street of Shibuya with a brand new trendy outfit, cityscapes, or silly grimacing selfies with Shiro in which they almost looked like they could be lovers, weren't his interests solely focused on the same gender. Keith wouldn’t be fooled by that assumption again. In the background of some of those pictures, Matt freaked out over the video games exclusives available in stores and  _ gashapon _ figurines of his favorite characters and in fewer, the three of them posed together in front of historic marks and locations of interest. Shiro was caught wholeheartedly smiling at his smartphone in one of them, probably reading over some messages he and Kogane traded, under the description “ _ @shirogane_t is making us sick with all this sappiness _ ”. 

 

Shiro was probably so accustomed to the eccentricity of Tokyo he felt the myriad of emotions his colleagues did with much less intensity, reduced to slowly healing homesickness rather than complete bewilderment.

 

After so long in America, though, he did feel rather alienated even among his kind.

 

While he was there, he too planned to visit his grandparents' graves. Small columns in gloss black cuddle stone, side by side, as he had described to Keith, their names written vertically in silver  _ hiragana _ . Peonies were his grandmother's favorite, while his grandfather had never learned to appreciate flowers at all, and thus Shiro's offering to him consisted in nothing more than a few minutes of silent heartfelt prayer.

 

Dinner had been an insane banquet of multiple servings of ramen. Shiro might have cried with the authenticity of the taste (though he would never give Matt the satisfaction of catching it on video), and that had been day one, from which Shiro had just returned. The following day would be the first of the convention, which would take so much of his time. But in less than two weeks, Keith reminded himself, they would meet again.

 

That precious anticipation made his heart all ticklish, a sheepish smile stretching at his lips as he returned to work. Just a little while more, and Shiro would be his.

 

~*~

 

**_[Keef, August 6th, 06:30AM]  dad wont turn the music down help me_ **

**_[Keef, August 6th, 08:04AM]  just got to sta monica. were finally in the same timezone haha_ **

**_[Keef, August 6th, 08:05AM]  or we’d be if u were back yet. how’s the con going?_ **

**_[Keef, August 6th, 03:12PM] its raining._ **

**_[Keef, August 6th, 02:47AM]  … i hope ur okay...? Good night._ **

**_[Keef, August 7th, 10:00AM]  you didnt say anything_ **

**_[Keef, August 8th, 12:08AM]  shiro what the fuck_ **

 

~*~

 

August  _ 16th _ . Shiro should have been back to Arizona by now, yet no signs of life. No coming online, no texting back, no Instagram or Facebook, not even a “fuck you very much, I never want to see you again”. Who the fuck disappeared like that before a date?  _ The  _ date?!

 

Keith tried not to send any more messages; he was heartbroken, but still had his pride. He wouldn’t go down on his knees and cry over spilled milk.

 

He had cried, though. A lot.

 

But only attempted to text him once, and requested reading reports, which never came. Shiro was probably flat out  _ ignoring _ him.

 

Promises were… lethargic. Words could be misunderstood once they replayed, over and over, in one’s head; maybe that happened to Keith and his silly, one-sided liaison.

 

_ See you next year. _ Yeah, right. A year of texting and sending pics and vague variations of “I think I may be in love with you” meant little in the scale of reality. Three hundred and fifty some days of split lives with constant contact, so much that it became hard to wake up without the urge to send a good morning message, or simply look at the lock screen picture of the single photo they ever took together. 

 

_ Had he just been fucking ghosted? _

 

When a compromise came attached to the voice of someone you hardly met, the vow was meant to be broken. It was foolish to wait for someone for a whole year; what would Shiro expect to find, anyway? Keith was… just the same. A year older. Longer hair. Darker circles under his eyes. Same faux-leather jacket, already peeling at the elbows and shoulders. Nothing had changed for him, but maybe Shiro had gotten tired of toying around with the little boy’s heart. Was it any fun, to tie a twisted knot around him, a sadistic  _ kinbaku _ play, whisper lies of love and promises of kisses only to throw it all away when you get narcoleptic enough?

 

Or maybe Keith was a fucking impatient idiot who didn’t know how to wait. There was that too.

 

Point was, Shiro was nowhere to be seen and Keith would be leaving the next day. The week assigned to the fair was coming to an end, lovesick Lance was tired of hanging with a brooding Keith and brooding Keith felt just the same way about lovesick Lance. There was only as much of the latino he had the mental ability of handling per year.

 

“Keith, could you please leave? My doctor said I need to keep my blood pressure down.” Lance, melodramatic as always, exaggerated his welcome into a rude version of a simple hello. “You fat ass, eat some broccoli or whatever, I’m not giving you any more onion rings.”

 

“Don’t make me go up there and shove your face into the oil. Give me the goods.” He demanded, a bill pushed over the counter before he walked to the right of the vehicle. One good thing the McClain booth had put up this year was the little covered area next to the food truck with a bunch of plastic tables and matching chairs. It smelled even more intensely of overly fried food, but fuck it; Keith’s own smell was repugnant already, anyway. He sank down in one of the oval shaped seats, arms crossing over his chest as he waited for Lance to do his easy job and get him the greasy meal he deserved. 

 

Onion rings covered in garlic sauce, a black hood covering his gross hair, and a trademark pout. Perfect sulking combination. At this point he just wanted to go back to New York, retrieve whatever life he had there and dwell with bitterness in the unfairness of a broken heart for the rest of his sad, agonizing years.

 

Time absolutely sucked and so did love and the complications attached to the idea of loving someone.

 

“Dude, you’re… pretty beat up.” Lance commented with a topping of concern, dropping down to sit on the table next to Keith’s - because God forbid they were sitting at the same table, what would passing strangers think, that they were friends?  _ Gross. _

 

“You think.” It wasn’t even a question, just the rhetorical bit of the concept of a “rhetorical question”, but of course the Cuban boy would reply to it as if it requested an answer because he was that oblivious.

 

“Yeah, I do!” Fucking Lance. “I mean, you moping around with the face of someone who doesn’t have many friends is kind of a constant thing, but...” The pause made Keith stop chewing on the overly greasy treat before him, mouth half parted around the selected onion ring, to look at the McClain with droopy, uninterested eyes. “...but yeah, you’re acting different. It’s like you’re sad about something, rather than just trying to pull an emo card.”

 

“Fuck off.” He groaned, grabbing his food carton and juice and preparing to walk away.

 

“Wait! What I mean is, like, uh...” Lance stuttered, uncrossing his leg and almost tripping over himself as he tried to walk after the onyx-haired teenager. “Like… If you wanna talk about it, or something. I can listen.”

 

"..." Keith could... appreciate that. It was more likely than not that he wouldn't open his mouth, he knew as much, but he sat back down anyway, munching on his food and hearing Lance do the same with his nachos. There was some relief in the crunching sound of chips being crushed between Lance's teeth, maybe due to the fact that as long as he was chewing, he wouldn't be speaking.

 

That relief only lasted a while, Lance's mouth was big enough to work its way around bolus and a couple of words.

 

"Dis 'bout that guy on your phone background?"

 

"Ugh." Keith grunted; he'd have to change his lockscreen image, apparently. Was there any harm in telling Lance? He wasn't one to spread out his feelings like an open book, and Lance wasn't too much of a reader, but just this once, he was hurt enough to admit he might actually need it. After a sip on his drink, he proceeded. "Yes... It's about him."

 

"I see... Dumped you?"

 

The paper cup was crushed in Keith's fist before he could refrain from such a stupid act, what was left of the ice and juice pouring out and over his hand and the table. Yes, he had been dumped, in the literal sense of the word, and via the worst possible way. Silence... Silence was so crushing, so destructive, so painful, his heart clutching constantly instead of beating normally, his lungs burning with the sacrifice of each dragged breath, and his eyes, fucking hell, was he about to cry?!

 

Not in front of Lance, he wouldn't.

 

"Hey, s'okay." The brunet rested his hand over Keith's all of a sudden, a move that weirded out both of them, their eyes meeting with the "no homo, not for you, at least" vibe. The Cuban-born boy almost seemed serious for a moment, as if he had caught up to his seventeen years of age instead of acting like an annoying brat all the time.

 

Keith took that thought back almost immediately.

 

"Distance always makes things look better than they are. You met this bonehead a total of like, what, three times? Four? Technically you don't really know him. It's easy to put up a facade online and act like the pretty golden boy in one front while you're actually a coward heart breaker in the other."

 

"Lance, you're pushing your luck." He spat, retreating his hand as well. As payback, he stole a nacho chip from Lance's disposable food container; let his consciousness deal with the guilt of eating animal cheese later.

 

Was it even  _ real _ cheese? It tasted like plastic.

 

"All I mean is, you deserve better than someone who doesn't see the worth in you. You're a star, Keith! Don't let ANYONE tell you otherwise."

 

"Lance..."

 

"--not even some guy who looks like the quarterback who made wedgies to every nerd kid from pre to high school. Every little boy's nightmare and every little girl's dream, but like gay, I mean, he's gay right? Are  _ you _ gay, or like, something else? I never asked-"

 

“Ugh…”

 

“Maybe he was cheating on you all alon--”

 

"LANCE!"

 

"Got it. I'll shut up now." He motioned a fake zip over his lips and tossed the pretend key away. How long that would keep him, Keith didn't know, but thank the bloody  _ heavens _ that he had quieted down.

 

Keith... missed Shiro. A lot. Even though he had been hurt with this ghosting thing, something was still not quite right. Shiro... loved him. He knew that, he was so sure. Or maybe he just wanted to believe that lie so bad he took it for true, the validation within someone's corresponded love giving him a sense of belonging he had never felt before.

 

Was this all it was? Desperation for acceptance?  Such weakness sickened Keith to the core, the few onion rings he had downed traveling right back up to his mouth in the form of bile.

 

Why had Keith allowed his ludicrous crush to control his life in such a manner?

“He’s just too good-looking to be faithful in a long distance relationship, anyway--”

 

Keith’s hand curled into a fist which landed straight on Lance’s jaw - with his left, somehow, he didn’t even know he could pull off as much strength into a hand that was not his main. It hurt his knuckles more than he had anticipated so he waggled his wrist loosely as he assimilated that the plastic chair he had been sitting on had been pushed back by his calves with the suddenness of his movement, making it collapse dejectedly on the ground at the same time as Lance did.

 

The dark-skinned boy looked horrified, his own hand only hovering the side of his cheek that would undoubtedly begin swelling. The shock soon faded into bubbling anger.

 

“HEY, what is  _ wrong _ with you?! I’m just trying to protect you!” Lance called out after him as he stomped away, a trail of desert dust lifting with each footstep he took in the dry, crack soil that made the standing base for a fair. All the colors around him mocked him, the obnoxious laughter of fair attendants as distant as his own vanished in the white noise of his defeated heart.

 

_ Protect him…?  _ There was no use protecting what was already broken.

 

~*~

 

“... Pizza ain’t gonna eat itself.” James commented that night, hoping to pull Keith out of the daze he was in. “But I just might, if ye don’t come and grab a piece.”

 

They both sat on their provisional beds, Keith with his back turned to his father, a blanket over him despite the heat, a feud show on TV ignored by both of them for different reasons. James for concern over his son, and Keith… well, for the usual, of course, the love he had lost without a chance of making it his to lose. Also he had punched his friend. While he didn’t directly regret the punch (Lance deserved it), he ought to like, apologize. Or something.

 

But not tonight. Certainly not tonight. The  _ last _ night.

 

The last bit of hope oozed away from the young boy as the digital watch on his phone neared midnight. As early as six in the following morning, he and Dad would begin their four days long drive to New York. Part of him looked forward to the comfort of sleeping alone in his uncle’s attic, but the most prominent part of his personality simply had no motivation to move.

  
He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep when his dad moved to sit on the edge of his bed instead. The mattress sunk a bit, a soothing hand resting on the curve of his waist. Dad knew better.

 

“C’mon, pup. I asked peppers ‘cause of ya. I can’t stand the shit.”

 

Keith groaned, pulling the pillow over his head in attempt to smother any word his father would say. 

 

“Ain’t hungry.”

 

A sigh, followed by calm silence. Keith matched it at the same time, eyes glaring a hole into the smartphone screen, time slipping by faster than he could - or wanted to - keep up to it. August 15th, 11:59 PM. He pulled up the unresponsive chat log, a bunch of gut-wrenching messages with a mix of concern and anger and apologies and please  _ just one text, Shiro, one call, one sign that you’re here, please, I beg of you-- _

 

_ August 16th. 00:00. _

 

“Look, kiddo--” James held back his words when Keith jumped off to kneel on the bed, arm risen in a sudden gesture motivated by anger, the device in his hand being thrown at the nearest wall only to bounce on the carpeted flooring and be smashed to pieces. His attempts to not check his phone every minute would be more effective if he had no phone to stare at.

 

“Don’t even.” He warned, almost hearing his father’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

 

James tried, Keith knew that, he had always done his best to raise a child on his own. He worked so hard, devoting every single second of his working life to assure a safe future for his son. He loved in his own way, nevertheless  _ hard _ , without ever expecting anything in return. He was tolerant, he was kind, but the only thing he demanded was respect.

 

With the soles of his feet bleeding from walking over the shards of his broken heart, Keith might have forgotten that.

 

“That guy’s only yer first heartbreak, Keith. That’s the shit about first loves, they ain’t meant to last, it’ll sting for a very long time and ye probably think you can’t possibly have this with anyone else, but then ye gonna meet someone who  _ won’t _ leave.”

 

_ Please, shut up. _

“Clearly this guy was playing you. Happens. Move on.”

 

James was so helpless with emotions, as cold as his personal experience in life had made him. He always said that he was no good at dealing with teenage drama; “Yer ma would’ve been much better at this than me. Even if her solution to every problem would be to repeatedly stab or jab at it until it went away,” he once shared, pointing out the permanent mark that cut the corner of his eyebrow.

 

“Keith. Ye can’t waste yer life waiting for someone to return-”

 

“Is it really your place to say that?! Mum left you years ago and you’re still waiting around like a dumbass!”

 

As instantly as those bitter words were spat, Keith regretted them, his eyes focusing on a corner of the room he couldn’t see before, hand moving to cover his cheek to react to the heat of having been slapped there. James’ dark blue eyes glared into his of identical color, thunder cracking between them, the temperature of the room decreasing drastically. It was an open wound for his father and Keith’s words were a double edged sword, both Koganes walking straight into it, letting the blade sink into their chests.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare to throw that to my face, Keith, I swear-” James’ voice lowered a few octaves, and the clock shifted to a minute past midnight, each  _ fucking _ second burned deep in his gut and Keith pulled the door open, slipping out into the night. Keith was out the door before dad had a chance to finish his sentence. “Where the fuck ye goin’?!”

 

Dad yelled from the door, but Keith wouldn’t turn back, crossing the street towards the town and maybe past that, feeling the warmth of the nights characteristic of the month he had gone from loving, to anxiously expect, and now, to plain out despise.

 

Keith’s first love had been a netless trapeze, with nothing to shield him from the imminent fall. Not even the arms of his father.


	5. v.

> _Deixar as saudades fora,  
>  _ _Cantar já, vamos embora,  
>  _ _De regresso ao Paraíso_

 

The town was dead, and so was Keith, a vacant corpse stumbling over uneven concrete. He didn't know where he was going but he wasn't planning on stopping until the horizon changed color. The night was heavy on him, the loneliness even more so.

 

Even through the boots he sported, he felt it when the consistency of the soil changed from thin asphalt to dry sand, indicating that he had crossed the limits of the town and now ventured into the desert. The warmness of the desert soil remained, after hours of harsh sun pooling underneath, but the moon had chilling properties; the deeper he advanced into the nothingness, the cooler it got, the beige turning blue as the sun turned black.

 

Albeit unknowingly, Keith's eyes traced the constellations he had learned from a recent documentary; something he was planning to impress Shiro with. How utterly ridiculous to even consider that, looking back. Keith's always held a fascination from the night sky, maybe due to the little stories his father told him during his childhood.

 

Holy shit, his _father_. He would never hear the end of it on the way back to New York. Heck, that was if James would even talk to him at all. The silent treatment was the worst, especially because it came accompanied by a silent radio and occasional emotional jabs he couldn't reply to with one of his own.

 

Maybe he shouldn't go back at all. Maybe Keith, your average drama king, should just waste away in the Arizona desert and become one with the single cactus he found since he began walking into the unknown hissing vastness. Looking over his shoulder, the city was further behind since he last time he bothered to check. Ahead and around, laid miles and miles of desert. He decided that was about enough for the night, and sat down by a rocky dune, his knees pulled up to his chest.

 

It was hard to tell time after that overreaction of throwing the phone to the wall. Incredibly reckless. He had never been one to depend on electronic appendages, at least not until he met Shiro and began trading messages with him. After that he felt naked without his phone, incredibly lonely and paranoid even.

 

He shook his head when the name of that man popped up, tilting it up to find some distraction amid the stars that splattered the heavens.

  
Which he immediately associated with that ridiculously perfect man, the open crack in his heart aching with a sharp twinge that made him cradle further into himself.

 

Ugh, would every single one of his thoughts drift to the damn man?! Was he the owner of his heart, his words and his sky?

 

The answer wasn't the one he wanted, but it was the only one he found, a burst of anger making him take out on the rock he found, tossing it to the horizon, kicking at the ground, yelling into the night as if the stars would pity him and go out in favor of him engulfing in the darkness.

 

Blinking his tears away, he tried to focus his vision on the sky, upon the thousands prying eyes of the stars. One of them he recognized from a news report he had watched a few days ago, warning about the visibility of Algol, a multiple star known as "The Demon Star"; he learned that its brightness dimmed for ten hours every two days, because a dim companion star orbiting nearly edge-on to Earth crossed in front of the much brighter main star. He planned to impress Shiro with the knowledge he acquired from the documentary on the constellation of Perseus, but well. That was a conversation that would never happen, but it wasn't a complete waste; he may not be good at English or Poetry at school, but he knew his constellations.

 

Texts of an old astronomer associated Algol with violent decapitation: such as to tell the story of the hero Perseus's victory over Medusa, the snake-haired guardian monster. Astrologically, Algol was considered one of the unluckiest stars in the sky, and Keith could relate deeply. Maybe there was some solace to be found amid the stars above if he imagined that the crystallized tears that ran down his cheeks were wasted stardust.

 

~*~

 

Keith only realized he wasn’t alone when the roaring of a machine grew closer, the headlight of a motorcycle landing upon him. He squinted at the approaching stranger, the counterlight making it impossible for him to distinguish any shape beyond a gigantic blur.

 

Dad? Not on a bike like that, he fucking wished. Was it someone to rob him? Good luck finding anything in him worth taking; at this point, not even his life was worth as much as his unbranded cheap version of _Dr. Martens_ boots. How fucking embarrassing, to have his life reduced to the love of one man, one single fucktard who was just too much of an asshole to commit to --

 

“Keith?”

 

It wasn’t until the late hours of the last night that Keith heard that voice calling his name.

 

“Hey there, buddy...”

 

It wasn’t until the very last night that Keith was met with the brick wall that was Takashi Shirogane. The metal side stand was kicked into place, the motorbike being turned off as the engine silenced, a leather clad man  smiling and raising his hand at him with a gentle wave, as if he had done nothing wrong.

 

Well, _had_ he effectively done something wrong? Certainly there was an explanation, an excuse, anything, _oh he looked so good_ and it was an undeniable alleviation to finally see him. What had happened? Where had he been? How had he found Keith and why had be bothered? Whatever the youngster was mad about seemed to temporarily dissipate into nothing but relief.

 

But “temporarily” was done sooner than later, as Keith held his breath, a frown weighing his brows together. Each step that enclosed the distance between them made Keith’s stomach drop further, made him want to crawl further away but he couldn’t find the drive to effectively move. He looked up to a concerned Shiro, that stupid, sculpted face of his, silently accusing him of having kicked a puppy.

 

“Go away.”

 

 _He hated him._ He hated him, but only because he loved him way too much.

 

“Your dad said I might find you around here.” Shiro gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, towards the city. Keith’s voice disappeared in the depths of the commotion created by the tuneless orchestra of his malfunctioning organs. His body was activating the self-defense mechanism of pretending to be dead in a state of inertia, or he was actually dying in a very literal sense, because every single part of him simply ceased any activity after long seconds of staring at the older man. “I tried calling you like a million times… Your dad picked up when I was about to give up, saying he was fixing your phone because you made... quite an exit.”

 

Shiro stopped a footstep away and Keith hid his face between his knees. Maybe he was hallucinating; didn’t that happen when one spent far too much time away from civilization? It had been no more than three or four hours since he had left, but it felt like much longer if he were to count with the days and nights he faced nothing but silence from Shiro. Because how had he been living if Shiro wasn’t there?

 

“You only decide to call back when I break my phone?” He hoped his words felt like the shards that were stuck in his throat. Shiro needed to feel the sting of Keith’s hurt, even if just indirectly.

 

“About that... I should start with an apology.” He began, sheepishly rubbing the back of his shaved head. There was a lot of explanation to be laid down in the table; part of Keith was ready to swallow every bit of bullshit Shiro had to feed him, but no _no, stop making a fool of yourself for once--_ . Shiro sat across from him, unbothered by the dust that’d stick to his tight jeans, and took a deep breath, as if waiting for Keith to look at him. No. Not just yet, he wouldn’t give him that satisfaction; what were the odds that he would have gotten even more attractive? Maybe their time apart made him gradually forget the impact of the looks of the Japanese man, but his memory was greatly enhanced each time they saw each other. Fucking _wow_. If Keith’s eyes met Shiro’s, then he would be sucked into their infinity and he would lose himself again.

 

Keith wouldn’t be able to resist if he stared at Takashi Shirogane again.

 

“I should have known that the observatory was under a no cell phone coverage regimen. I had no service for the whole week I was out there and when we left the facilities, we went straight to the airport, and due to that storm in the Pacific, there’s been flight delays. I came here as soon as I possibly could, and I even texted you when I landed, look.”

 

No service?

 

That was his excuse?

 

Shiro pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a couple times and extending it towards Keith. The upper right corner on Shiro’s phone indicated that it was a little past three in the morning. In fact, there were several unsent SMS, a red exclamation point next to each text bubble denouncing the failure to send them.

 

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 6th, 10:45PM]  Hey, your dad has good music taste, just accept Jimmy Buffet as a part of your life. (･ω <)☆_ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 6th, 11:04PM]  Service sucks out here. Missing you. °+(*´∀｀)ｂ°+°_ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 7th, 08:05AM]  Just checking if the message went through… You didn’t say anything._ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 7th, 08:05AM]  Turns out the damn place is under a no cell coverage policy. No one bothered to put up a sign, even. （￣□￣；） I’m just messaging you with hopes that these all come through at some point. (⋟﹏⋞)_ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 10th, 02:12PM] Hey, I hope you’re okay. It’s been hard without you, but I have been developing some points on my thesis, and met some great people here! I just can’t wait to go to you. Hope to see you soon._ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 14th, 02:20PM]  Keith, is everything okay?_ **

**_(!) [Sheewo, August 15th, 02:20PM]  Of course there would be a flight delay. Some sort of storm, it seems. 눈_눈 And I can’t access Wi-Fi without a Hotspot. Ugh. Just wait for me, Keith. Please. Get back to me asap._ **

**_[Sheewo, August 16th, 00:43AM]  I just landed. Where you at? Can I come see you?_ **

**_[Sheewo, August 16th, 00:46AM]  Please Keith… Tell me you’re there._ **

**_[Sheewo, August 16th, 01:53AM]  I came by the fairgrounds… did you leave already?_ **

**_[Sheewo, August 16th, 01:58AM]  Please pick up, baby..._ **

 

“I thought you--” Keith choked out, gulping before gathering the courage to continue. “Jackass!” At the lack of words, his fists curled, nails scraping the dried soil as he pulled his hand up to hit Shiro in the arm. He was aiming for the face, but had no strength, each hit lacking more force than the last until the attack ceased completely. Shiro, heck, he didn’t even more away, allowing himself to be punished for something that hadn’t been-... or it didn’t seem like it had been his fault.

 

It would be easier if Shiro was to blame.

 

Those messages fit right in between the cracks of his broken shell, they sneaked through the fissures and melded them together like liquefied gold. It had a name, _Kintsugi_. The Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold to enhance the history of the object over the tendency to discard it. Shiro handled him so carefully, so patiently laying out his case, correcting Keith’s flaws, kissing his cracks away, promising him, again, that he would never leave and Keith, dumb or simply hopeful, he believed him all over again.

 

He brought out a shaky sigh, the tears flowing as if they meant to hydrate the whole desert around them. “I thought you didn’t want me…”

 

“How could I ever not want you, silly?” Shiro smiled, head tilting to the side as he sought out to meet Keith’s wet starlight eyes. His soft voice sunk right over Keith’s heart and he didn’t flinch when the other man reached out to touch his hand. “How could you ever think that? We’ve been through quite a lot together. I would never leave you hanging like I did unless I had no saying on the matter. I missed you every single second, I guarantee you that much. You felt the same, didn’t you?”

 

 _He was back_ , Keith mused, _he came to see him_. The promise would’ve seemed abrupt and frivolous and nonsensical to everyone else, the word of heart that Keith feared to be empty and made in the haste of the moment, but was just proven wrong because he was just there, however late, but it was kept. With marvel written all over his expression, Keith finally smiled, receiving one in return.

 

“Can I hug you, baby?” Shiro inquired after a while, expectancy in his eyes, arms opening in gentle invitation.

 

The hug was hesitant, but it lasted for so much longer than he’d dare to hope for. With a deep inhale, Keith took Shiro’s scent in, classifying it as his favorite essence in the catalog of his mind library. Romance novels would describe it as “very man-like, woody, musky”, but for Keith, to heck with the metaphors, this was Shiro and Shiro alone. He clawed at Shiro’s back, tugging him closer, climbing up into his lap until there was nothing between them, no barriers besides their clothing. His tears snaked down the leather of Shiro’s jacket, and he might have missed the moment they fell backwards, his arms around the other’s neck. Time slipped as he sobbed, mind rewinding to every single moment he had shared with Shiro; what he gave and what he received, what had been plighted and agreed upon, what was yet to come if only their lips met again. “I was so worried… I thought something had happened to you, and then I just thought you were playing me and we did all that stuff and--”

 

“Shh… It’s okay, baby, I’m here now. We’re fine.” Shiro cooed with no intention of condescendance, nuzzling into the curve of the Kogane’s neck with affection, big arms gently cradling him. “I missed you so much, Keith… I waited so long for this.”

 

Keith almost missed the small kiss on his collarbone, a small itch that ballasted across his skin, warming it. His hair was gently combed by Shiro’s fingers, his scalp gently scratched, his very being cradled with the immensity of the night sky above them to witness it.

 

After what could have been a version of their little eternity, when the tears had dried and their hearts tuned into the same frequency, Keith shivered. “Come on… I promised your dad I would get you back before morning.”

 

“Hm…” Keith pouted, weighing himself down so that Shiro would struggle to pick him up. Getting back to his dad seemed like the last thing he wanted to do, having just found comfort in the arms of someone he didn’t think he’d see again. There was this unconscious fear that if he were to untangle himself from Shiro, he would just vanish again. “Not yet.”

 

“You want to stay out here?”

 

“I just… want to feel you like this. A bit more.”

 

“How about we get off the ground, though?” Shiro suggested, his nose bumping against Keith’s cheek before he pushed himself away. In one of those situations in which time drifts too fast in a decrepit version of reality that puts you on the backseat, Keith finds himself being easily lifted and wrapping his legs around a giggling Shiro as he was carried over to the motorcycle. “If you don’t want to go to your dad, we can just stay at my place until morning. At least we won’t be cold. You can meet Black, and we can… well, we can just chill a bit. Catch up.”

 

Now that sounded amazing. His face heated up to match the hue of Shiro’s flustered cheeks before he could fully compute the fact that Shiro had settled on his bike with him on his lap. He rearranged and lifted himself so that his back wasn’t pressed against the fuel tank, his arms around Shiro and his legs over the other’s.

 

He saw Shiro’s lower lip curl into his mouth as he bit on it, kneading it as if he was holding something back. Keith hoped it was a delayed kiss; God knew how long he had waited for one.

 

Would they kiss? Shiro promised they would, under very different contexts indeed, but Keith had nothing to lose and he would take anything Shiro would be willing to give him.

 

He leaned in, his lips tentatively pressing against Shiro’s mouth, a soft gasp silenced by a nearly immediate response. The tip of a tongue teased its way in, and neither of them could tell whose, but they both went with it, silly smirks forming against each other. Shiro pulled Keith closer, urging his legs to clamp around his man.

 

The stars may have descended from the sky because Shiro’s touch felt like starlight, branding constellations as they roamed underneath Keith’s shirt. He cupped Shiro’s face, as if he wasn’t close enough, and moaned when Shiro’s perfect set of front teeth sunk on the tender flesh of his lower lip.

 

“I may be considering doing something we shouldn’t.” Shiro warned, dodging from a kiss just so that he could nibble at Keith’s ear, his breath warm and _oh-_. Keith shivered and clung to his man, knowing that his mind suggested about the same thing as Shiro’s.

 

“Why shouldn’t we do it?”

 

“Out here? In the desert?” He chuckled as if it were the craziest thought. As if he didn’t want it; as if his hands weren’t tracing expectant circles at the end of Keith’s back, as if his breath didn’t hitch as he felt Keith palming at his bulge. Consequence was muted by the need to feel Shiro close to him.

 

Keith knew Shiro would very much prefer to have him lying on a comfortable bed, take the pleasure of removing every piece of clothing one by one to the sound of some soft ambiance music, kiss every inch of his body and worship him like Perseus worshiped Andromeda, but Keith was no helpless maiden chained to a seaside rock. He was a man, much like Shiro, with a needy boner in his pants. There would be time for that later, for sure, but their current position left common sense and clear thinking aside for a bit.

 

“Out here… in the desert.” If the plea hadn’t been convincing enough, Keith clumsily unbuttoned Shiro’s jeans and slipped his hand inside - just barely too, it was too cramped in there - to pull out the cock he had only seen in the digital dimension of his smartphone. Using his hands as a scale for comparison, he gulped; it was as big as it had seemed in the picture, but he wasn’t scared, no, not Keith Kogane. He could take this up his skinny ass like he was meant to.

 

... He was a little bit terrified, maybe.

 

“Hey… Don't get all brave, we can't go that far here. Let’s be realistic.”

 

What did that mean, Keith wondered? Was he chickening out, did he not want to do this with him? He wanted it, he needed it so bad. He couldn't stop the frown that clouded his before Shiro eased it out with a tiny kiss on his forehead.

 

"Don't worry, baby." Shiro smiled tenderly before licking a short path from Keith's jaw to his ear. His voice was a soothing balm, leaving goosebumps where his breath hit Keith's skin, the contact enough to cause a little short-circuit. "We'll just have to do something else. Like this."

 

He quickly pulled down the leggings the youngster wore; in a wave of self-consciousness, Keith considered that he should've showered before venturing out to the desert, or at least changed underwear (two day old briefs were only arguably sexy), but how was he supposed to predict the event? As far as his little heart had dared to hope, he would never see the man of his dream again.

 

And what an event it was, when Shiro lowered his head, his mouth opening around Keith.

 

N-no no no, w-what are you thinking-!!

 

He fell back over the tank, grasping at something, anything, what might've been the bike's suspension, then Shiro's jacket, and then settling on his soft hair. He tugged on it, overwhelmed by the warmth engulfing his hardened member, his whole body shaking at the stretch of Shiro's lips around him. That… was a blowjob. Okay. He was receiving his first blowjob ever, and it was perfect.

 

He looked up at him with the intensity of a hurricane behind silver eyes and Keith was swept away by the typhoon that was Shiro. The eye contact was pursued, Shiro’s lips curling on the edges before he hollowed his cheeks beautifully, as he sucked Keith's soul out through his cock, pumping it with skillful lips and a curious tongue and fuck fuck fuck, _Shiro,_ Keith couldn’t take it-

 

He whined, mouth agape, breath kicked out of his chest as the vibrations of Shiro's moan flew reverberated through his nervous system. The Japanese man sucked in earnest, timing the bobbing of his head with careful strokes on the shaft, tongue pressing at the tip, those perfect cheeks hollowing beautifully. He was good at it, should Keith ever be in position to judge that, but the thought that his skill was provident of practice made him momentarily sick.

 

Lights from the far off city and the night sky spotted Keith's vision, his eyes rolling back as he  convulsed into spasms underneath Shiro's care. He didn't want it to end but there was more at stake than an embarrassingly early orgasm, his own sanity on the line. "S-Stop..."

 

That may have been said a few beats too late, as his hips answered their own call by bucking upwards, reaching a bit too deep, poking at the entrance of Shiro's throat. Keith thought he might've lost consciousness for a second there, taking his sweet time to blink his eyes back open, the stars returning to their rightful place in the night sky. The cold desert air on the wet expense of his cock wasn't too pleasing, immediately contrasting with the warmth he felt as he fucked Shiro's throat. His boyfriend - could he call him that, because after this he definitely would - looked down at him with gentle admiration.

 

"Back with me, baby?"

 

"Ugh." He groaned, covering his whole face with his palms. "I'm sorry..."

 

"It's perfectly fine." He said, tilting his head back and cracking his spine as he attempted to straighten it. After quite a while in that contorted position, it was no wonder. "Did you uh... l-like it?"

 

Was the dork _stuttering_ ? Unsure of his performance? _Really?_

 

"Are you kidding me." Keith wanted to laugh but had no strength in him to pull anything but a weak chuckle. Had he _liked_ it? Wow. That was an understatement. Out of all the fantasies he had had, as cheesy as it was, Keith thought it had been beyond divine. He felt the peak of embarrassment when he saw that some of his release had stained his burgundy colored T-shirt, but ignored it for the kiss that had been initiated, the passionate encounter as gentle as it was delicious. Keith could kiss this man for hours, days, forever should he have it his way.

 

Shiro smiled as he kissed him sweetly, but Keith made it messy by breathing irregularly, still not fully caught up with himself. He reaches for Shiro's neglected member, wrapping his hand around it. He ought to reciprocate; that was sex etiquette, right? Too bad porn videos didn't educate the viewer in what would be polite to do, preferring to focus on than what gets the spectator off.

 

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Shiro guaranteed with a hand resting upon Keith's cheek, caressing it as the Kogane turned to nuzzle on his wide palm.

 

He wasn't compelled to do it just because he had to, it wasn’t a debt to be paid, but he definitely wanted to try it. For so long he had been dreaming of what it would be like to please this man and to be pleased by him; Shiro had even indulged in the concretion of said reveries, as they shared their tares and quirks via online conversations and long-distance phone calls. During one of those, Keith had learned that Shiro absolutely _loved_ oral sex, which only added to the pressure of having to be stellar at it.

 

Shiro had been unbelievably prodigal at it, he knew where it felt good and how to make it so, and he had given Keith the most intense orgasm in the span of what... four minutes?

 

God, that had been humiliating.

 

The part which was now his to play made him shiver in anticipation. Would he be any good? Maybe he'd just slob around the cock or choke ineffectively and make an idiot of himself. On the other hand, how hard could it be? It was like a lollipop, or something; sucking and no biting. He wouldn't ever admit it, but there had been a series of incognito tab Google searches under the assumption that he and Shiro would get to the point of becoming intimate.

 

Thinking about a Cosmopolitan guide to oral sex was probably a turn-off. But at least he had some basis to support his attempt. Not like his mind was clear enough to follow it step by step, but the uncharted territory of blowjobs seemed just a tiny little bit less scary if he thought he had the map in his possession.

 

Firstly, he kissed the tip, making sure his lips were wet with saliva. Faintly salty, he concluded. Identical kisses were spread down the shaft, and the path back upwards was made by dragging his pink tongue across the thick vein underside, which had him tilting his head left in a weird angle.

 

He kissed it again, laved around the head and, filled with a refreshing wave of confidence, opened his mouth to take Shiro in, lips tightening around the tip, tongue teasing at the slit with an unpracticed rhythm.

 

So far so good, he supposed. Shiro tilted his head back when a low rumble left his throat, his fingers carding through Keith’s hair - tugging a bit and it hurt, just a little, but you wouldn’t find Keith complaining; in fact he was learning of new things he didn’t know he enjoyed until this very moment - and that alone was enough to feel his own cock hardening again.

 

Nothing new regarding his recovery time; even in solo masturbation sessions, Keith wouldn’t usually find himself satisfied until the third or fourth round, like some horny monkey.

 

The recklessness he sported as the most prominent accessory of his personality spoke up louder, having him greedily shoving as much as he could into his mouth. He coughed around it, tears bubbling up in his eyes.

 

"Easy, easy… Don’t take too much in just yet." Shiro rasped as he angled himself backwards, supporting himself on the back rest of the bike. He rested his hand on top of Keith's head, urging him away when it became too much for either of them. "Poke your tongue out for me?"

 

Keith straightened his neck and did as he was told, the tip of his tongue touching his chin in complete appeasement. He noted how Shiro used the forefoot of his shoes to lift himself up against Keith's tongue, his foreskin dragging back as he rubbed himself on the sandy surface. “Perfect… Stand still...”

 

His eyes fell closed, the weight of Shiro’s cock slapping his tongue before filling and withdrawing from his mouth. It was a slow motion, so slow it had Keith maddening, but Shiro’s heaving chest and patient frown had him trying as hard as he could to stand still as the other took control. Hips rolled forward, his eyes rolling up to meet silver colored ones, clouded in a hazy mist of erotic delight.

 

Shiro was fucking his mouth and it felt marvelous.

 

"That’s it, baby... You're doing great..." Shiro hoarsely praised, low and secretive, fingers digging into onyx locks of hair and tenderly urging his head to move with sweet strokes and pets. “Just like that...”

 

They met in the limits of Keith’s inexperienced mouth and about halfway through Shiro’s length, groans from both men echoing through them. A fine layer of sweat coated Keith’s forehead, some of his hair plastered to his temples, determination burning in his eyes as he considered he had kind of gotten the hang of it.

 

“Get up, lovely.” His whole spirit faltered when Shiro pulled away with a pant. Keith almost felt insulted when Shiro appealed for him to raise back to his sitting position. Wasn’t he doing well? Was Shiro bored? It felt like a nightmare, he could do it, he could do better if Shiro would allow him to-- “Let’s do something like this.”

 

Shiro hooked Keith's legs from underneath his knees, tugging him closer so that their crotches would be rubbing on one another. Their cocks rubbed together with the need for release, Shiro’s coated in saliva and Keith’s still aching from the previous orgasm.

 

The damn bike wasn’t too comfortable after a while, his ass feeling bruised and shaped to the curve of the fuel tank. He would’ve complained if he hadn’t been hastily searching for the hooking taste of Shiro’s lips, gracelessly bumping noses and front teeth before quickly recoiling and mumbling an exasperated apology.

 

They both chuckled, forehead on forehead, finding a small infinity in the depths of each other’s eyes. “Is this okay?” Shiro inquired with composure, shoulders almost covering them both, a gargoyle shielding a centuries old building.

 

“Yeah...” Most definitely, more than okay, Keith replied with a sigh in his voice, all breath and placid happiness.

 

Shiro’s larger hand guided Keith’s to engulf both cocks, pressing them together. That alone was staggering, his capability of any cohesive line of thought crashing in their tracks. Shiro was so warm, so big, so perfect. A flex of their thighs made them rub on each other, the friction making them both hiss.

  
Okay. This was fine. Keith was doing just fine.

  


Aside the fact that he shivered like crazy in Shiro’s arms, pawing desperately at his back and arms, enough to tug the leather jacket down his lover’s shoulder. As if he needed the extra eye candy of those thick biceps, damped in a thin film of sweat for being in contact with the lining of his jacket for, what, hours? How long had it taken for Shiro to find him in the middle of the desert? Had he drifted through the town first, searching across the parallel streets? Part of Keith would always believe the stars had guided him straight to Keith.

 

It began slowly and it began with Shiro thrusting in experiment. Keith jerked a bit when their balls met, the intimacy too grand to be had in the outskirts of a desert. His breath hitched as he found the drive to thrust back, his whole body hiccuping as if his joints suddenly rusted. Shiro’s hand tracing a caress on his hip urged him onwards, the kiss that followed motivating him.

 

With a succession of deep breaths, they both moved in synchrony, indescribable carnal lust powering up their moves, and it was just them, just Keith and a mythological God, a being beyond fantasy and dream, and he was _his_ just as much as Keith belonged to him. The encounter of their cocks sent jolts across their spines, and when their mouths met, their whole bodies went short circuit.

 

Keith's trembling thighs ached from the strain of his leggings, but he didn’t complain, even spreading his legs further. He would be better off pulling a leg out but they weren’t as comfortable as they wished, and this way he’d be prepared should they need to quickly wrap themselves up.

 

“Fuck, Shiro--!” Keith gasped, his cock rutting so deliciously against Shiro’s and he was here, his man, his lover, he was right in front of him. His second orgasm hit him when Shiro’s teeth sunk on the curve of his neck, that big hand stroking both cocks at once and Keith shivered as he came, he almost sobbed at the overwhelming sensation. Shiro kissed him and his lips were like an anesthetic, numbing out everything around them except them, except this and what they had.

 

“I love you, baby.”

 

In a warm desert night, the stars witnessed more than they should have.

 

* * *

  


Keith met Black shortly after. The animal warmed up to him right away, curling around his legs (Keith was sure the cat was trying to make him trip and kill him but Shiro assured him he liked Keith enough to leave his scent all over him). So yeah, Keith had been claimed by a cat, it seemed, and he was okay with that.

 

He slept with Shiro. In his bed. With him by his side and the overly attached cat at their feet. The sheets were cold but they felt good against his bare torso and even better when his warmth mixed with his lover’s.

 

To be quite honest, there was very little sleep that night for both of them. For one, Shiro snored. Of course he couldn’t be perfect, there had to be a little something about a Greek God that made him mortal.

 

After the fullest breakfast he had ever had at a coffee shop he wouldn’t normally enter due to its expensive looks, Keith was left at the motel. His father was angry, and rightfully so but mostly worried, though he didn’t say it. Instead, he began apologizing for… well. Keith didn’t hear the reason, not when he too owed his Pop an apology. He held the man, and saw him talk to Shiro after, unsure what about, but they shook hands and a pat-in-the-back embrace.

 

“Just letting him know I got a shotgun back home,” James joked, “and I ain’t afraid to use it.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes at that and waited until his dad turned his back to press Shiro against his bike and sealing their lips together, sinking in the protective arms that curled around his waist.

 

Red was packed in the trailer. Keith was ready to head back home. Under the promise, of course, that Shiro would meet him there this time, until they could meet halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thank yous to my amazing partner [BlueyBlues](https://blueyblues.tumblr.com/) for these two stunning pieces and for everything she went through with me to get this project moving forward! Also shout out to [Kumatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumatt/pseuds/kumatt) for being the best beta I could ever ask for! He was a dear, putting up with my brainstorms and helping me around with the whole plot, and if you've a mind, you should check out his work! Thank you for reading!


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